


dearly beloved

by aminami



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, P5R Spoilers, set during the third semster, wedding au, wedding planner yusuke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26922376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aminami/pseuds/aminami
Summary: "Answer me,” he snaps harshly and it seems to work, because Akira finally looks at him, looking apologetic if not pleading.“That’s because,” he replies somewhat reluctantly, fiddling with the stray lock of his fringe. “We’re, uh… we’re getting married.”Sometimes to escape a madman's scheme, all you need to do is say two simple words - "I do."
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 70
Kudos: 214





	1. prologue: the church bells

_If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong -_

**_1 Corinthians 13:1_ **

* * *

  
“Guard, now!”

The warning comes way too late.

The shadow falls heavily to the ground, the impact of it strong enough to send everyone flying backward, with different sounds of pain utterly devoid of dignity. 

Ignoring the ringing in his ears, Akechi spits out some of the blood still gathering in his mouth, forcing his body into a sitting position. He’s the first one to get up, the rest of the Thieves scattered around the arena like lifeless dolls. 

He tries to snort, but it only hurts his ribs, so he settles on gritting his teeth instead. It seems like everyone in this team is useless. 

Everyone except Joker, towering over them—imposing, and immovable like a marble statue. 

The Persona shielding him dissipates with a faint shimmer, and for a moment, Joker really does look demonic, all clad in black, sinful against the white background of Maruki’s Palace, looming over the angel-like shadow with his gun pointed at its lowered head. 

“M-mercy,” the shadow stutters, and it’s only then that the marble cracks and Joker’s mischievous grin returns to his face. He comes closer, one foot on the shadow’s face, pressing it harder into the ground.

“Tell your boss to stop playing hide and seek,” he murmurs. “And maybe I’ll reconsider.”

He cocks his gun and the shadow sobs, all pathetic and sniveling under Joker’s heel. Akechi would likely be disgusted if he wasn’t so busy watching Joker.

He loves that bit, though he’d never admit to anyone else—the moment when Joker moves his finger towards the trigger, making him no more, no less than the same animal Akechi is. 

The shadow can’t make that promise. They both know it. Joker moves his hand and—

“That’s enough,” a voice rings out.

The angel vanishes before Joker manages to pull the trigger. 

Just the sound of that voice is enough to make Akechi leap back to his feet, his sword already in his hand. Somewhere behind him, the Phantom Thieves slowly recover, coughing, and swearing under their breaths.

The world sways dangerously before his eyes. He must have stood up too quickly, but Joker’s at his side, trying to steady him. Akechi resists the urge to cut him into pieces by simply stepping away from him.

“Where the fuck are you, Maruki?” Akechi snarls, his voice still raw from the dust lingering in his throat. “Show yourself, you fucking coward!”

Maruki’s laugh echoes across the empty room. “You’ll get to me soon enough. But first, I’d like to see every single one of you individually.”

“All of us?” Queen says somewhere behind him, likely about to ask another useless question. She never stops at just one. “Or just Crow and Joker?”

“Why would he single out Crow and Joker?” Kasumi, Sumire—whatever, asks tentatively. “We can fight just as well as they can!”

_In your dreams._

“They’re the only ones who managed not to succumb to this madness,” the cat takes over in its annoying know-it-all voice as if Akechi didn’t just catch him licking his ass clean when no one was looking. “If you’re trying to get inside their heads—”

“I’m not going to single them out,” Maruki corrects them calmly. “Every single one of you has a very important part to play. I’ll meet you one by one, and then I’ll give you my offer. Think of it as your last counseling session.”

“To hell with your counseling, I’m never talking to you like that again!” Ryuji snaps like the mindless monkey he is, and Ann shushes him, but if her expression is any indication, she could hardly stop himself from speaking her own mind.

“What happened to the angel?” Joker asks suddenly. His eyes are sharp, focused on the wall in front of them as if he can sense something the others can’t see. For once, Akechi agrees with him. He was wondering about the same thing, not just because he enjoys watching Akira put bullets through shadows’ heads. “What’s the point of sending a powerful enemy if you were going to get rid of it before the final blow?”

Maruki takes his sweet time to reply, likely enjoying the suspense, and Akechi opens his mouth to say something, but Joker sends him a warning glare, so he pursues his lips into a thin line instead. 

The silence would be deafening if it wasn’t interrupted by Fox’s soft humming—a familiar song that Akechi can’t place no matter how hard he whacks his brain. They all seem to ignore him, most likely used to his bizarre antics, and Akechi briefly wonders if the impact was strong enough to make him lose his faculties. 

And then just, when they’re about to lose hope—

“It would be very bad luck,” Maruki, his voice sounding more distant than it did just a minute ago. “To kill an angel right before—”

Whatever he was about to say next dies in the sound of the wall opening right in front of them. Everyone makes a sound of surprise like they’re all part of a cheap 90s sitcom—everyone, except Joker, who still looks oddly composed, even for someone so used to the weirdness of the Metaverse. 

“Penny for your thoughts, _leader_?” Akechi asks, his voice full of venom. Antagonizing him is almost like second nature. If Joker senses it, he doesn’t look impressed, turning his gaze to Futaba instead. Like Joker, she was oddly silent the whole time.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” 

Futaba readjusts her goggles, muttering something under her breath that doesn’t sound like any language known to man. Joker clears his throat, giving her an encouraging smile—it makes Akechi’s stomach boil with rage. They really don’t have time for her stupid acts, and he hates how Joker always tries to be a good supportive dad when they don’t have time to waste.

Maybe he’s just pissed that Joker’s been clearly avoiding his eyes since they entered the Palace, which usually means he’s plotting something. Whatever. 

His mind briefly drifts back to the relentless, cold stare Joker gave the shadow while holding a gun aimed at its head, and he shivers, imagining the same look directed at him.

But Joker’s not Akira, and Akira’s always been too kind. Akechi would have Akira fight a thousand shadows just to see that animal part of him.

“I can’t sense anything beyond that wall,” Futaba’s voice shakes him awake from his fantasy. “It’s completely blank.”

Akechi turns his own gaze towards the opening, but he can’t see anything but white light. Something about it makes him feel uneasy. 

Akira nods. “I believe that the moment we step in, we’ll become separated. I don’t think Maruki wants to hurt us, but we should be cautious, just in case.”

“Is this wise?” Yusuke asks, resting the weight of his lean body on his katana. Even then he looks elegant and nonchalant, and after all this time, Akechi still can’t bring himself not to hate him. “It feels like we’re stepping right into Maruki’s trap.”

“The wall behind us is sealed shut,” Futaba informs them. “There’s no other way out.”

“Looks like the only way leads through that door,” Akechi sighs. He moves his head around, his bones cracking loud enough for everyone around him to flinch. He loves doing it to them—just for that reaction.

“Agreed,” Akira says pensively. “And I honestly don’t think he was lying. He’s going to meet us after… whatever this is.”

He helps everyone up to their feet, and he stares at them, waiting for their sign. Their stupid unanimous rule. They all nod and only then Joker looks back at Akechi, who immediately tears his eyes away from Akira. 

“Crow?”

“Let’s just go,” he says through gritted teeth. “We wasted enough time.”

Right before crossing through the mysterious door, Akechi thinks he can feel Akira’s hand brush against his wrist. He wonders if he should take his hand. 

He turns around, but he sees nothing but white, and then he’s falling into emptiness so vast that for a moment his body feels completely weightless, soundless, and nonexistent.

* * *

The fall still hurts. 

_Painless reality my ass._

When he comes to, he’s lying on the cold, marble floor. It takes a while for his eyesight to come into focus, and just as Joker predicted, he’s completely alone.

The room is dark and rectangular, more of a corridor really and it’s completely empty. In contrast to Maruki’s Palace, it looks dark, old, and dirty, and once Akechi manages to get back to his feet, he notices his clothes are back to his regular outfit. He checks his pockets for his phone and wallet, but it seems like all his belongings were conveniently taken away.

He tries to summon his Persona. Nothing happens. He tries again and again, but to no avail.

Akechi never panics, but he does feel a little uneasy.

Is he back in the real world? Is this another of Maruki’s tricks? Without his phone, there’s no way of knowing, and Akechi forces himself to think. His surroundings don’t tell him much, and they still don’t know the extent of Maruki’s powers. Is it possible that Maruki made them leave the Palace by force? If so, to what end?

“So, what now?” he asks out loud, hoping Maruki’s still listening. “Wasn’t this supposed to be counseling? Where’s my long couch, doc?” 

There’s no response. He swears loudly just to make himself feel better. 

Suddenly, Akechi notices an old wooden door at the end of the corridor. He could have sworn there was no door there just a second ago, but it’s hardly the weirdest thing to happen to him since they got to Odaiba this morning, so he decides to worry about it later. It’s likely another one of Maruki’s tricks. 

Just when he’s about to touch the doorknob, an odd sound breaks the silence like a roll of thunder.

It’s completely deafening, and he collapses to the floor, his knees hitting the marble so painfully that he’s pretty sure he fractured some of his bones. He curls into a ball, his hands flying to his ears in a weak attempt to shield himself from the sound, and he’s pretty sure he starts screaming, his voice vanishing among the unforgiving ringing of—  
  


_The church bells._   
  


Just as the realization hits him, the sound stops completely. 

Akechi lies on the floor for a moment, still panting and he coughs a few times, just to make sure his eardrums didn’t completely pop. To his surprise, he finds his sense of hearing completely intact. Maybe they still are in the Metaverse, after all. 

His legs are still a little shaky when he gets up. He lets one of his hands slide against the surface of the door—nothing happens. It’s a strange sensation—he expected it to be smooth, but it’s anything but, and he can already feel a few splinters digging under his skin. 

When he reaches for the doorknob again, nothing stops him.

Akechi opens the wide door only to find himself inside a chapel.

Unlike the other room, it’s not entirely empty. There are rows of seats and stained glass windows, lit candles, and of course—an altar right in the center. Still, there are no decorations, no flowers, no music, no guests. The place almost looks haunted, grim rather than celebratory.

Maruki stands near the altar, smiling from ear to ear like Akechi’s the nicest thing he’s ever seen. “You made it out first, even before Akira-kun! I must say, I completely didn’t anticipate that turn of events! My most heartfelt congratulations!”

He’s not buying this bullshit.

“What the fuck was that about?” Akechi snarls, closing the distance between them, his fists already grabbing the front of Maruki’s disgustingly white outfit. The splinters from before dig deeper into his skin. “What’s your fucking game?”

Maruki’s hands are gentle, but firm, when he pries Akechi’s hands open, pushing him away like a naughty child. It takes Akechi by surprise—just how strong is this guy? “Relax, Akechi-kun. All shall soon be revealed. Besides, I’m quite sure… ah, there they are!”

One by one, the Phantom Thieves emerge from the very same door he came through just a second ago, with various degrees of shaken and tired expressions on their faces. Akechi notes that Morgana is back to his regular cat form.

“Looks like everyone is back except for Akira-kun,” Maruki remarks with a hint of worry. “But I imagine it might take a while for him to get dressed.”

“Get dressed?” They all repeat dumbly, and Akechi hates how apparently he’s now part of their one-brain-cell cycle.

“I-if you did something to him,” Haru chimes in, looking palest of them all. “Then I swear on my axe…!”

“Haru, get your mind out of the gutter,” Makoto mutters, but she looks just as scared. 

Maruki looks taken aback by the implication, his hand clutching over his heart like he’s about to have a stroke. Akechi hopes he will. “Nothing of the sort. I simply meant...”

The door opens again.

They all turn to face Akira who walks in, looking so sheepish that it makes Akechi want to punch him in the face. He thinks back to Akira, no, _Joker_ looming over the defeated shadow, and he sneers in disgust at this new frail expression. 

He’s clearly avoiding everyone’s gaze, trying to make himself smaller with his eyes fixed on the floor, and his usual slouching posture. He lost his glasses too, but more importantly—

“Why are you wearing a tuxedo?” Akechi’s eyes narrow as Akira steps closer.

He doesn’t like the silence he gets in return. Akira looks somewhat uncomfortable, and Akechi always hated that—he prefers the confident Joker running through the Metaverse, the one that makes him feel like he’s nothing in comparison, the one that makes his blood boil with jealousy just from the way he switches through his Personas, and slices targets with his knife with a single flick of his wrist.

“Answer me,” he snaps harshly and it seems to work, because Akira finally looks at him, looking apologetic if not pleading.

“That’s because,” he replies somewhat reluctantly, fiddling with the stray lock of his fringe. “We’re, uh… we’re getting married.”

Akechi waits for the punchline—but it never comes. 

“Tell me this is some sort of sick joke.”

Silence again.

_Fucking Maruki._

“We? You’re getting married to who?”

Akechi looks at all the girls gathered in the room, but they look just as surprised and helpless as he feels. 

Ryuji is the first to speak up. “This is bullshit! He ain’t even an adult!”

“Forcing someone into a marriage would never stand in any court of law!” Makoto adds, almost as if she forgets that they’re in Maruki’s world. 

He could likely make Akira marry an elephant for his own sick amusement. 

“It’s not the marriage itself that matters,” Maruki says calmly, and Akechi turns to look at him just to find him smiling. “It’s about recovery.”

“Recovery?” Akechi snorts. “Who the fuck needs…?”

All eyes in the room suddenly turn towards him. For the first time in his life, Akechi is completely speechless. 

“I did say,” Akira says in a small voice. “That _we’re_ getting married.”

Akechi wishes he was dead.

He wishes he could relive the engine room again rather than be stuck here with these idiots. 

At that moment, he just wants to destroy all of them—Maruki, Akira, his merry band of fools, everyone who looks at him now like he’s the new circus attraction. 

Luckily for him, Akira was ever the easiest one to break. 

“I don’t love you,” he spits. “I don’t even _like_ you. What makes you think…”

“For now, it doesn’t matter how you feel about him,” Maruki interjects. “I must say I’m surprised. I took you for a pragmatic type, Akechi-kun. Think about it this way—I think it’s crucial for your _rehabilitation_.”

There’s something about the way he says the last word that has Akechi raise his eyebrows, and in the corner of his eye, he can see Akira visibly flinching, though no one but Akechi seems to have noticed.

“And once that happens, I promise I’ll let you all go.”

Akechi wants Akira to look at him. He wants Akira to be there by his side when they both tell Maruki to fuck off.

But Akira’s looking away and the air of acceptance radiating from his slouched shoulders makes Akechi blind with rage.

He doesn’t realize he moved until he feels strong arms—likely Ryuji, or Yusuke holding him back, as he desperately tries to punch Akira in the face.

“I could never marry someone as spineless as you!” he yells just because he can’t stop himself. “I could never love you!”

Finally, Akira looks at him. And when he does, he looks determined. 

“Please, let him go,” he says somewhat coldly.

Akechi drops to the ground, panting and Akira moves to hover over him. “I don’t want you to love me. I don’t want to accept this madman’s scheme any more than you do. But whether you like it or not, I am your leader. You’re part of us now, and you’ll accept my decision.”

“What did he say to make you so weak?” Akechi half-laughs, half-growls from the absurdity of it all. “What kind of noble act are you trying to pull this time? Who are you trying to save?”

It’s Maruki who answers:

“I already told you, Akechi-kun. It’s the easiest way out.”

He stands next to Akira, reaching out with his hand to help Akechi get up. Akechi stares at the hand like it’s the foulest thing he’s ever seen in his life, resisting the urge to spit on the white glove.

“I will shut down this reality,” Maruki says calmly, completely unfazed by Akechi’s behavior. “Once the two of you get married. The wedding will take place in five days. I hope you make up your mind by then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: something old!


	2. something old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“His memories will be something old at your wedding,” Maruki explains with a smile. “Let’s see if you can get your Prince Charming to wake up.”_

_If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing._

**_1 Corinthians 13:2_ **

* * *

_Akira is trapped. He can’t move his hands, his wrists successfully pinned by a body much stronger than his, and the thrill of it makes him shiver in a way that has nothing to do with the cold winter air._

_He whines pathetically, and he hears a warm chuckle, reserved for his ears alone. “Impatient, are we?”_

_Akechi is a sadist. Akira always knew that, and maybe that’s exactly the reason why he’s so drawn to him. Akira longs to be hurt. He longs for Akechi’s hands to destroy every little part of him that isn’t already broken._

_“Closer,” Akira moans. “I need you closer.”_

_Akechi takes mercy on him and releases his hands. Akira immediately uses them to wrap around his neck, pulling Akechi closer to bite just under his jaw, where he knows Akechi’s most sensitive._

_Akechi groans and he grabs Akira by the knees, lifting him so effortlessly like they’re in the Metaverse, where everything’s weightless and unreal. Akira gasps, his fingernails digging into the exposed skin of Akechi’s neck._

_He’ll need to remember to readjust Akechi’s scarf after this. Akechi always leaves that spot open, and even in the fake reality, he doesn’t want Akechi to catch a cold._

_The wall behind him digs into his back painfully, like a faint reminder that nothing about his relationship with Akechi can be easy and simple. He accepts the pain with everything else Akechi is willing to give him._

_He would gladly stay here forever pressed against the brick wall if it meant Akechi doesn’t stop kissing him like this._

_Despite the crushing realization that the moment they part, Akechi will go back to acting as if nothing ever happened, he would still do it all over again. He’d freeze to death if Akechi wanted him to. He’d die right here in this alley in Kichijoji, with Akechi’s arms wrapped around him like the deadliest vines._

_It’s all about him._

_His breath that comes out in cold puffs in the crisp winter air belongs to Akechi._

_His body, grinding helplessly against Akechi’s thigh, belongs to Akechi._

_The fingers that Akechi keeps tangled in the messy mop of Akira’s hair, were made to take him apart._

_“Goro,” he moans, just because he can, and Akechi whines against his lips, pushing his tongue deep inside Akira’s mouth just to shut him up._

_It’s okay, though. That alley is their own special place._

_In that alley, Akechi becomes Goro, and Kurusu becomes Akira. In that alley, they both become boys, so hopelessly in love that the sky above them can’t help but shed frozen tears out of pity, falling somewhere from above in the shape of snowflakes._

_“Say my name again,” Akechi says quietly, like he’s ashamed of it, and Akira gladly obliges._

* * *

Akira sits by the door of Akechi’s dressing room, his head resting against the hardwood.

He knows it’s pointless. Akechi will never let him in.

After Maruki vanished, they inspected the chapel to find another door. Behind them, they found a labyrinth of corridors, each leading to separate rooms—bedrooms for the wedding guests, a dining area, two dressing rooms for the grooms, and finally, the room for the newlyweds, decorated with an unfamiliar looking symbol on the door’s surface.

It’s the only room that remains closed, and Akira is glad it does. He wouldn’t be able to sleep in what he imagines to be a king-size bed with Akechi locked in his own dressing room, refusing to come out. 

He hasn’t slept yet, but he knows he will have to give in at some point. Ryuji already offered him a couch in his own room, but he kindly refused for now. His friends all come to talk to him one after another, where he’s cooped up under Akechi’s door, trying to cheer him up to no avail. 

Akechi never speaks to him, not once. Akira wonders if he’s still there, or if maybe he found some way to escape. If anyone could, it would be Akechi, after all.

In the meantime, the rest of the Phantom Thieves manage to conduct a small investigation, and Makoto makes sure to give him a thorough report.

Firstly, the building seems to be fully accommodated to their needs, but it doesn’t look like there’s a way out. 

Secondly, none of them were able to use their powers to summon their Personas, but Morgana and Futaba did sense a strange distortion from the closed newlywed room, suggesting they might still be in the Metaverse. It’s very likely that they’re still in Maruki’s Palace, they’re just no longer considered threats.

Thirdly, Maruki is nowhere to be seen. 

They all try to make small-talk, but Akira knows it’s just to avoid the biggest elephant in the room—that for the first time since he became their leader, Akira has failed them. 

He can’t blame them. Having to agree to Maruki’s deal makes him physically ill. He wants to jump out of his own skin and become someone else, and it’s the one thing he can’t do right now. His spirit of rebellion is dormant, and somehow, he suspects it might entirely be Maruki’s fault.

_“I could never marry someone as spineless as you!”_

That’s right. He is spineless. But he just wants what’s best for everyone.

“Akechi,” he says to the door, his hand sliding involuntarily over the cold surface. “I’m sorry. If only you could understand…”

The door remains silent. 

His sharp senses pick up on distant footsteps, and he lets his hand fall back to the ground. Soon, Sumire comes into the view, her conflicted expression making it very apparent that she’s doing her best not to look at him with pity.

She stands in front of him, playing with the hem of her skirt to avoid his gaze. He feels bad for her—it’s likely that the rest of the Phantom Thieves decided to send her to do the dirty work.

“Senpai,” she says softly. “You need some rest. We’re all very worried about you.”

“I need to talk to him,” Akira replies stubbornly, the same thing he’s told every other person that has come to see him so far. “He needs to…”

“What he needs is time,” Sumire interrupts him, suddenly looking very determined as she steps closer to loom over him. “It’s you who wants to talk to him. Don’t force on him your own vision of what’s right.”

Akira’s eyes widen at that, and not for the first time today, he feels utterly defeated. “I didn’t mean to be selfish. I just want him to understand that I had to do it.” 

“Maybe he will understand, maybe he won’t. That’s up to him to figure out. Sitting here only makes him feel more cornered, and it makes you miserable. It’s not healthy for either of you. You can’t force someone to forgive you.” 

_You can’t force someone to love you._

Akira briefly wonders if Sumire knows. 

When they first started seeing each other, Akechi and Akira made sure to keep it a secret. As far as Akira knows, no one in the Phantom Thieves is aware of his relationship with Akechi, not even Morgana. But maybe they all had their suspicions.

Besides, Sumire is an outsider. Just like Akechi. Maybe she simply sees more just by keeping her distance.

He probably nods, even though he feels so detached from his body that he can’t even tell anymore because she smiles, all angelic and beautiful. He likes that about her. She always smiles with kindness, the type only reserved for someone so pure-hearted. He tries to imagine the same look on Akechi’s face, but all he comes up with is the fake smile reserved for the magazine covers.

He’d give anything to see Akechi now, even if he’s looked at him with nothing but resentment ever since they entered the Palace. It made Akira avoid his gaze the whole time, and right now he regrets that he did. 

He doesn’t realize how tired he is, until Sumire helps him, her small arm wrapping around his waist to stop him from collapsing. He admires her strength, but maybe that’s just a part of being an athlete. 

“Take a nap, senpai,” she says soothingly. “I promise, the world won’t end if you do.”

Akira wonders if that’s really true. It seems like every decision he made so far results in utter disaster.

* * *

He wakes up to a commotion in the corridor. 

Even with his mind still groggy from sleep, he’s on his feet at once, instinctively reaching for his gun. But then all the memories come flooding back, and he realizes he’s not Joker, he’s just Akira—a defenseless kid with no supernatural powers to make up for all the qualities he’s missing. 

As his eyes adjust to the dim room, he notices another detail, too. The tuxedo Maruki gave him is gone, and his clothes returned to the casual outfit he wears outside the Metaverse. He’ll worry about that later.

The voices outside the door get louder. He looks around Ryuji’s room, but he can’t find anything that could even remotely serve as a weapon. He tries to steady his racing heart, feeling trapped, and absolutely useless.

 _It’s okay_ , he tells himself as he opens the door with his sweaty hand. Maruki said he wouldn’t hurt them. Whatever’s happening, it’s probably nothing serious.

He follows the noise to the end of the corridor to the very same place he spent occupying for the last few hours. He notices that the door to Akechi’s dressing room was left slightly ajar, but Akechi himself is nowhere in sight. Other than that, all of his friends are there, their expressions varying from anxious, guilty to straight-up angry. 

Ann spots him first, shushing everyone else, and gives him her worst _‘Everything’s fine!’_ smile.

“H-how was the nap?” she asks innocently, playing with her hair. She’s biting her lip so hard Akira’s surprises there’s no blood dribbling down her chin. 

She’s so obvious, he could play bingo whenever she does her poor attempts at lying. But he won’t say it out loud.

“I bet he managed to get some rest with all that noise,” Morgana rolls his eyes, a look that will never stop being weird when he’s in his cat form.

“I’m sure he had the most pleasant of dreams regardless,” Yusuke pats his back awkwardly. “It’s not like he knows Akechi is missing.” 

“Yusuke!” 

Akira takes a deep breath. And then another. And another. 

He slowly counts to ten. Then backward. 

“What do you mean he’s missing?” he asks calmly, proud that he managed to steady his voice. 

“H-he’s just not in his dressing room,” Ann says, suddenly looking very interested in the patterns on the carpet below her feet. “And we can’t find him anywhere. But I’m sure he’s fine!” 

“Can’t believe you’ve been left by the altar by Akechi,” Ryuji shakes his head. “Dude ain’t even worth it.”

“Technically,” Makoto interjects. “He wasn’t left by the altar just yet. It only counts if it’s on your wedding day. Akechi-kun just…” 

“Oh, he’s a runaway bride alright,” Futaba giggles. “Shame, I was going to put some pins inside his tuxedo when Yusuke isn’t looking.” 

“I would have very much noticed,” Yusuke says coldly. “I wouldn’t let you destroy that wedding, no matter how hard you try, fiend.”

They all seem too amused to be aware of the storm raging inside of him, and Akira wants to scream.

“Any ideas where he might have gone?” he asks slowly, telling himself it’s not okay to imagine slowly choking every single one of his friends, even if they seem to have a competition for who’s the biggest idiot.

He probably spends too much time with Akechi. Used to, anyway.

“Maybe he escaped through the window!” Haru exclaims. “Like in a movie!”

“Maybe he killed himself,” Futaba offers, a little too hopeful.

“From what I remember, the room has no windows,” Yusuke opposes calmly. “And he did not seem suicidal the last time I saw him.”

They all turn towards him as if Maruki compelled them with a flick of his magic wand, or whatever he used to control this stupid reality.

For a moment, everyone is silent. 

“Wait, Akechi let you in?” Ryuji asks after a minute, always slow on the uptake.

“He said I annoy him the least out of all of you.”

“Dude—”

“What did you talk about?” Akira asks, a little tense. Really? Yusuke? He feels a little offended if anything but he tries not to think about it. At least, Akechi’s talking to someone now. 

Yusuke visibly brightens up at the attention.“Glad you asked! I first indulged him with my opinion on the color arrangement for the ceremony. You see, I have read this fascinating book on color theory—”

“The short version, we’re on a tight schedule here, Yusuke.” Makoto chides him with a hint of annoyance, and Akira’s grateful because he could never find it in his heart to scold Yusuke.

“It’s very important that you…”

“Please,” Akira butts in, already hating himself for what he’s about to say. “It’s… for the groom.”

“Very well,” Yusuke sighs, looking just a little sad, and Akira makes a mental note to ask him about color theory later as long as it makes him happy. “So we agreed that white, red, and gold would be the perfect colors for your wedding. Or rather, I talked, and he nodded, so I suppose I have his consent. He seems quite stressed about this whole ordeal, and he barely said anything. But when I told him that he shouldn’t worry since the wedding is fake anyway, Akira’s still underage after all, and then he suddenly smiled and—”

“Akechi seemed pleased?” Akira stares at him in utter disbelief. “What did he say exactly?”

“I believe he said ‘ _Fox, your mind is so powerful, it’s like having an atomic bomb dropped right in the middle of your cerebrum’—_ if my memory serves me right. _”_

Akira pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yusuke, he was insulting you.”

“Then why did he say ‘ _Congratulations, I feel like my brain cells were blown off by the impact’_ when he didn’t mean it as a compliment?”

“Because it’s not a good thing, Yusuke.”

“Oh,” Yusuke’s shoulders slouch in disappointment. “I thought he simply liked my idea so much, he was completely blown away. But that does explain why he kept muttering ‘ _I'm surrounded by idiots’_ , though I did assume he just meant all of you.”

“We need to find Akechi,” Akira sighs, feeling a strong headache coming up, the kind that he’s never felt in the Metaverse before. “We don’t know if this place is really safe.”

“I thought you trusted Maruki,” Makoto says, somewhat coldly. 

Akira does his best to keep up his poker face, despite the ugly thing gnawing at him from inside his chest. “I know he’s going to keep his word. But there are way too many things he left unsaid, so we should all be careful.”

“Akira,” Yusuke approaches him very seriously, and just for a moment, Akira lets himself hope someone’s actually going to say something useful. “I need to know one more thing. I think it’s crucial if we’re to get out of here fast.” 

Akira gently removes Yusuke’s hands from his shoulders. “What is it, Yusuke?”

“Is it truly okay for me to be your wedding planner?” Yusuke asks with a crazy glimmer in his eyes. “Akechi already said yes, but I’m beginning to think he could have been lying to me.”

Akira is torn between wanting a hug, and being the one to give Yusuke a hug. 

“There’s not going to be a wedding without the other groom,” he reminds him gently. “So we need to find Akechi. Fast.”

“Senpai,” Sumire places a hand on his shoulder. “If you don’t mind me asking… What is it that Maruki said to you? To make you as desperate as this? I hope I’m not being rude but… you’re not acting like yourself. We want to help you, but we don’t know how.”

Akira looks away from all of them, just so they don’t see his own disgust.

* * *

_“You’re going to keep us trapped here,” Akira repeats with his raised eyebrows. “If I don’t get Akechi to marry me.”_

_They’re sitting at a negotiating table—or at least that’s what Akira calls it in his head. He’s alone, just as he expected, but he knows better than to be intimidated by Maruki. Even if he’s likely the most dangerous foe they have faced so far._

_“That’s exactly right,” Maruki nods._

_He feels like there’s something else Maruki isn’t telling him, but he decides to leave it for later. There’s so much bullshit involved in all of this that he doesn’t know where to begin._

_“That’s it?” he snorts. “All we do have to do is say ‘I do’, and you’ll let us go? The fake reality ceases to exist? Seems awfully generous.”_

_“Ah, I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Maruki smiles sadly as if he’s not the one making all the rules. “There’s always a catch. You see, there are certain rules I want you to obey.”_

_“What rules?”_

_“First of all, all your friends have certain roles assigned to them. They’ll know what they are, you don’t need to worry about that part. But I want this wedding to come with a sacrifice—from both you and Akechi-kun. I already took something from him, something that surely he won’t miss.”_

_Akira feels sick, but he knows better than to ask about the details. Maruki will tell him sooner or later—villains always love to boast. “What do you want from me, then?”_

_“Oh, it’s very simple. You see, I want you to make sure this wedding is very… traditional.”_

_“Traditional?”_

_“What is it that they say?” Maruki pretends to think hard about his words. “Something old, something blue, something borrowed—”_

_“And it has nothing to do with your own failed wedding,” Akira interrupts him coldly. They’ve already seen the recordings. “Do you think Rumi would have wanted this? Would she be proud of you if she knew what you had become?”_

_Mentioning her name was his first mistake. He’s not typically the type to antagonize other people when not prompted, he leaves that part to Akechi. But he can’t stop the burning hatred that pumps straight to his heart, like a thick poison._

_Akira briefly wonders if this is the kind of resentment Akechi feels towards him now. If not, he will soon enough._

_Maruki still sits in front of him seemingly unfazed, but his terrifying smile doesn’t reach his eyes. When he finally speaks again, his tone is as cold as the snow lingering somewhere outside the Palace in Odaiba:_

_“We’re similar, don’t you think?” he says slowly as if he wanted every single word of what he’s about to say ingrained in Akira’s brain. “We just want what’s best for everyone. We don’t care if it destroys us. I’m doing this because I can feel how desperately you want to help him. I think you’ll appreciate my wedding gift to him."_

_“Your wedding gift?”_

_“Tell me, Akira. Wouldn’t you completely erase yourself from his memory if it meant he’s going to be happy?”_

_“Is this what happened?” Akira tightens his fists just to stop the fantasy of his knuckles colliding with Maruki’s jaw. “You took his memories? What good does that do? Akechi was already troubled long before he met me.”_

_“You misunderstand,” Maruki shakes his head. “For now, I just removed some of the memories. Mostly the ones connected to you. The parts where… you became close.”_

_The realization that Maruki saw their most private memories almost makes him want to throw up._

_“But you’re not going to stop at that,” Akira says, his voice trembling with anger._

_“If you don’t play by my rules, I’ll take everything from him. All his worst memories. The metaverse, his tragic past, his parents, and finally, his death… All of it gone. It’s the only way for him to be happy. Surely, it’s not too bad?”_

_“Do you really think it’s going to make him happy? Akechi would never want this.”_

_“Akechi-kun didn’t want a great deal of things, and all these terrible things turned him into a man you love. I’m sure you’ll be able to love this new version of him too. I took a glimpse of your heart, and I know how you feel about him. I care about your happiness, too. I care about all of you.”_

_“Do you know why I’m the leader?” Akira snarls, no longer to keep his temper in check. “It’s because I actually ask my teammates to do what they think is best for them. And then, we come to our decisions unanimously. Every voice counts. It’s those voices that set a line between a leader and a tyrant.”_

_“Is this what you think of me?” Maruki almost looks sad. “I don’t mind being the villain in your story. But very well—let’s put it to the test. Let’s see what Akechi-kun really wants.”_

_He leans in so close that Akira can smell the faint scent of his cologne, only adding to his nausea. After all the enemies he faced as Joker, his body knows better than to flinch. Still, he can’t help but look upon this man, the man who disappointed him more than anyone in his life, with nothing but all-consuming disgust._

_“Once the church bells ring,” Maruki whispers the words into his ear like he’s sharing a secret. “Akech-kun will forget about your relationship. He’ll remember you’re his rival and the leader of the Phantom Thieves. He’ll retain all his memories that don’t involve you touching his heart. But he won’t remember how much he loves you.”_

_Loves him._

_Akira tries to be strong. He always tries to be as immovable as a rock in the face of danger. But he can’t help but stop a sharp intake of breath when he hears that confession, confession that should have come from Akechi, straight from Maruki’s mouth._

_He pushes Maruki away with a strength that he didn’t know he had, not even in the Metaverse, and Maruki actually staggers with a surprised groan, but he manages to keep himself from completely toppling over._

_Akira doesn’t realize he’s standing up until he looks down on Maruki with utter disdain._

_“You have no right,” he spits. “You think you’re better than them, don’t you? All these rotten adults we stopped before. But you’re like the rest of them - taking, and taking until there’s nothing left. You shouldn’t be the one to tell me that he loves me. I don’t want his love if it’s going to be like this. Fine, make him forget. I’d rather not have his love than for him to be trapped in your mad scheme.”_

_Maruki ignores him. “We’ll see who’s right. We’ll see if you can get Akechi-kun to love you again. Think of it as a handicap. I can’t just admit my defeat so easily. If you win, I’ll release you, just like I said you did. If you lose, I’ll take Akechi’s rehabilitation into my own hands.”_

_“What if he doesn’t love me, and we still get married?”_

_“I’m afraid it won’t be so easy. Remember the rules? I already made this one easy for you. Think about it. His feelings are dormant, but they’re still there.”_

_“I don’t see how—”_

_“His memories will be something old at your wedding,” Maruki explains with a smile. “Let’s see if you can get your Prince Charming to wake up.”_

_“If you don’t accept my terms, I’ll force you all to forget. You’ll be trapped in this reality forever. I want to see how hard your soul can rebel.”_

_He vanishes, just like that. Akira looks at the chair where Maruki sat, to find a bundle of clothes that he recognizes to be a tuxedo._

_For that short moment, Akira hates everyone. Why is he the one that has to make that choice? Why can’t things be simple? Why isn’t there a choice that would make everyone happy?_

_Maruki’s right. He just wants what’s best for everyone._

_With Maruki gone, he collapses to the ground, sobbing into his hands, taking comfort in the knowledge that no one is there to hear him in the empty room._

* * *

  
“Senpai?”

Sumire’s voice shakes him awake. He doesn’t know how long he stood there reminiscing, but now that he’s back, he knows there’s only one thing that everyone expects of him. Orders to follow.

He ignores his friends’ worried stares as he forces himself to stand up straight. 

“Let’s just find Akechi for now,” he says, hoping he at least sounds like Joker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just going to mention it, because i think it's important - no, akira isn't aware that there's a high chance akechi's dead outside of maruki's reality. and maruki has a very good reason to hide it from him.
> 
> next up: something blue (finally, yusuke's time to shine!)


	3. something blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I think we need to make it official,” Akira still looks at him somewhat stiffly, but some of the ice melts away from his gaze. “But forgive me if I don’t get down on my knees for you.”_

_If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing._

**1 Corinthians 13:3**

* * *

When Akechi wakes up in an unfamiliar room, he’s completely alone.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been out, but he feels weirdly rested as if for the first time in his life, he got a good night’s sleep. It’s a strange feeling, and his bones crack uncomfortably as he stretches himself lazily.

There’s always that one wonderful moment after you wake up when you find yourself completely oblivious to yesterday’s troubles. It’s like being detached from your own mind, and it’s oddly liberating to just _be_.

The bad thing is, that moment never lasts long enough to be a source of real comfort. 

It hits Akechi like a slap in the face. 

Maruki. The wedding. Akira. 

Right.

He can’t pinpoint the moment when he started using Akira’s given name, even in his own head, but apparently, that’s a thing now. Maybe Maruki thought he would.

Akechi sits up and slowly goes through what little he remembers. This isn’t the first time he finds himself somewhere with no recollection of getting there—most recently when he was forcibly shoved inside Maruki’s godforsaken reality, like roadkill thrown on the back of a pick-up truck. 

He feels oddly at peace as he gets up, taking in his surroundings. Before he knows it, he’s pacing around the room, carefully laying out the facts like they’re a pile of documents in front of him.

So they entered Maruki’s Palace, and by them, he means Akira, Yoshizawa, and The Phantom Thieves. They fought the strange-looking Shadow, but it disappeared before they managed to deal the final blow. Maruki told them to go through some strange door. And then—

The church bells.

He hisses, a sharp stab of pain shooting through his skull like a well-pointed arrow.

He’s never felt anything quite like it. The pain is almost blinding, and he has to cover his eyes with his sleeve, clenching his teeth to keep himself from screaming. It’s like experiencing several migraines at once, every single one in a separate part of his brain.

Could it be Metaverse fatigue? Assuming they are still in the Metaverse, of course.

Think, _think_.

Sudden nausea comes and goes in waves. He feels like he’s on a particularly rocky boat ride, so he closes his eyes and breathes through his nose, waiting for the storm to pass. 

Luckily, it doesn’t last long, and he releases the chair he didn’t know he was gripping.

This is good, actually. This confirms as much as he already suspected - the church bells did _something_ to him. Or rather, Maruki did something to him. The question is what exactly did it do to his brain? How much damage is he going to have to deal with this time?

“I hope you had pleasant dreams. Is the room to your liking?”

Speaking of the devil.

Akechi eyes Maruki who just stands there smiling across the room as if he’s genuinely happy to see him. Or maybe he got to witness Akechi squirming in pain, and he’s the type to enjoy it. One way or another, it makes Akechi feel sick again, and a part of him wants to vomit on Maruki’s perfectly shiny shoes just out of spite. 

“Chocolates on the pillow are usually a nice touch,” Akechi says sardonically. “You’re a lousy host, doc.”

“Sarcasm,” Maruki comments and Akechi imagines him taking out a notepad to write it down, as he sits himself down on one of the armchairs. Akechi remains standing, feeling the strange need to tower over him. “I see these are your true colors.”

“It’s honestly astonishing how insightful you are,” Akechi snorts. “I can’t believe these idiots actually came to you for counseling willingly.”

“You mean Akira-kun and his friends?” Maruki smiles weakly. “I suppose they needed someone to talk to. We all like to be heard, it’s a natural need. And I always liked listening.”

He smiles at him expectantly, as if that’s enough to get Akechi to talk his heart out.

Wait, that’s it. This is exactly what Maruki wants out of him—more information. He needs him to talk. And that would be because...

It clicks easily, his old detective habits still remaining warm and tingling under his skin. 

Maruki doesn’t want them to win. 

Why would he? 

He carefully crafted this intricate world, spent months if not years doing cognitive research, and then there is all that time he spent surveying Yoshizawa, Akira, and the others. He wouldn’t throw it all away just to watch two kids play a wedding for his own sick amusement. Or maybe he really does think he’s doing it for their own good. 

Still, even if he’s hardly the most machiavellian of villains, there must be something more to it. 

It has to be something personal, Akechi decides. Possibly, connected to that girl they saw in the recordings—what was her name again? That’s right, Rumi.

But what does it have to do with him and Akira? Why them? Why Akechi?

Is he still trying to win them over? That must be it, right? He wants to find a way to keep them trapped in his reality and make them think it was their idea all along. 

And he already knows all about the others, or at least, he thinks he knows. Everyone, except Akechi.

Akechi is the missing puzzle piece in Maruki’s grand scheme. Maruki never got to know him well; he’s the only one who’s still an enigma. The fact he’s even here, and not dead, is already proof that he doesn’t know the first thing about him.

Then again, Maruki doesn’t know what’s best for everyone, just what he _thinks_ is best for them. That much they’ve already established.

But what if some people’s well-being means more to him than others?

He almost forgets Maruki’s still in the room, observing him calmly, as if he didn’t just watch Akechi dissociate for what had to be a solid five minutes. 

“It must feel good,” Maruki says. “To finally be yourself. Akira-kun never mentioned your sarcasm. Though, I suppose he always did avoid talking about you.”

Unknowingly, Maruki gave him an important piece of information. He’s surprised to see him like this, never having seen this side of him before. Akechi half-expected himself to be a conjured-up doll, not unlike the cognition he saw on Shido’s ship. 

The thing is, Akechi has no way of knowing if he’s truly himself. But one thing is certain—there is no way Akira would want Akechi to act like this. He would want the confidant, the rival, the charming detective, always happy to give him a fake smile just to make him feel better.

Instead, he got a ruthless psychopath, who hates his friends, would rather bite the dust than spend another minute with him, and would gladly backstab all of them if it only meant he could be free from this freakshow.

Akira’s too meek to wish for an Akechi who’s as broken as this.

But it doesn’t matter what he is, or what he isn’t. For now, he needs to think of a way out. Doubting his own existence is the very thing that’s going to hold him back, and he doesn’t intend to play into Maruki’s hands that easily.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Akechi glares at him. “You’re trying to manipulate me, the same way you manipulated those useless fools into crying on your shoulder. But you’ll be disappointed to find out I’m nothing like them.”

“I never thought you were,” Maruki taps his fingers against the armrest. “I find you to be absolutely fascinating. Unique even.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“It’s normal for teenagers to feel misunderstood.”

“ _Misunderstood?_ ” Akechi repeats and he can’t stop a small laugh that comes somewhere from a particularly rotten part of him. “That’s really fucking rich. I guess my murderous rampage was just a particularly nasty case of teenage rebellion. Must be the hormones, right doc?”

“I didn’t mean to invalidate your feelings,” Maruki says, looking like a sad puppy. “I just want you to talk. Perhaps, it’s my fault, I hardly made these circumstances comfortable for you. But I want you to know, I’m here for all of you. I genuinely want to find out what would make you happy.”

Is he really that dense? Or just playing dumb to get Akechi to do something reckless?

Well, if Maruki wants to manipulate him, then two can play that game. He pretends to drop his guard down, looking away as if what he’s about to say is going to be very painful. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“I can’t really blame you with everything you’ve been through,” Maruki nods. “But it’s okay. I can make it go away. I can make you whole again, I just need a little bit of your help.”

Akechi blinks away the fake tears. “Y-you really can do that? Right now?”

Maruki’s Persona manifests behind him briefly, just to demonstrate his power.

How very nice of him to make it so easy. 

So they’re likely still in Maruki’s Palace. For some reason, they can’t summon their Personas, but it’s not just because Maruki doesn’t consider them to be a threat. No, there’s more to it. Something about this particular place made them completely dormant. But it’s not information Maruki would give up easily.

Maruki’s Persona might be stronger now, but is it really strong enough to render fellow Persona users virtually useless? 

If his guess is correct, Maruki is using his own power to drain them, but he likely can’t keep it up for long. Hence the deadline. Five days, was it?

The show goes on.

Akechi looks at him through his wet eyelashes, his lip trembling. “You’d really do that for me? You’d make it go away?”

“Of course I would,” Maruki smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between them to put his hand on Akechi’s shoulder. “Just say a word. You saw first-handedly the fine work I did with Kasumi. My Persona is ready to make all your wishes come true. Just let me in.”

It’s his touch that does it.

“Her name is Sumire, you piece of shit.”

He pushes Maruki away with an angry snarl. Maruki doesn’t look surprised. He probably saw through Akechi’s act, but went along with it anyway. His mind tries to work out what it means, the way it always does, but no matter how hard he pokes, he comes out with nothing.

He really can’t understand this man.

“Do you think I care?” Akechi snarls, unable to stop himself. “Do you think you can help me? Why does it matter anyway? Why does it matter when I’m already—”

For a moment, his vision blurs and he has to stand back. It’s like watching the world through a kaleidoscope, the colors melting into each other, incomprehensible shapes dancing in front of his eyes.

Fuck. Not again, not again, not—

* * *

  
  


Akechi wakes up on a sofa in the dressing room, feeling as if someone hit the back of his head with a baseball bat. 

His hand wanders through his hair, but he doesn’t feel as much as a small bump.

He sits up, touching his face slowly, and then inspecting the rest of his body with trembling fingers.

Something’s definitely wrong. Wasn’t he just talking to someone? Wasn’t he in a different place entirely?

Could it be that Maruki was messing with his head again?

His legs are still shaking when he gets up, but he does his best to push through it.

He spends some of his time examining the dressing room, but nothing seems out of ordinary. He ignores the tuxedo hanging in the closet. 

He quickly notices that he can’t find any sharp objects or anything that could be used as a weapon. There are no mirrors, no weapons, nothing that could be smashed into tiny pieces. 

Fine. So he’s basically in a very fancy wedding-themed psychiatric ward.

Maybe he can get through with the wedding after all, and then stab Maruki when he pretends to cut a piece of the wedding cake.

He carefully peeks outside the dressing room, and some ugly part of him is disappointed not to see Akira waiting there for him to come out. 

Instead, he gets Kitagawa, who perks up like a little chihuahua dog about to piss on the floor out of the sheer joy of its owner walking through the door—which is particularly strange for someone of his height and posture.

He can’t help but think it’s a little strange. He never got to know Kitagawa all that well, but he never recalled him to be _this_ enthusiastic, especially with Akechi in the room. Akechi and the Phantom Thieves nurtured their relationship of mutual hatred over the last few weeks, and it wasn’t something he personally minded.

He scowls, thinking how it’s likely that Maruki _made_ Kitagawa like him in whatever happened in his own little hell room. Maybe he thought he could use a friend, which is exactly the childish vision he expects Maruki to have of him.

Still, as much as he hates the company, it could be worse. He could have gotten Sakamoto instead when half the time he’s not even sure they speak the same Japanese.

Dear God, if this keeps up, Akechi’s bound to run out of invectives.

“Ah, Akechi!” Kitagawa pats his arm amicably like they’re in a country club, and he’s about to congratulate Akechi on a particularly well-played golf game. “Feeling blue?”

“What is this with all of you pretending to know how I fucking feel?” he groans, shoving Yusuke’s hand away. “I’m fine.”

Kitagawa blinks at him slowly. “I meant the flowers.”

“ _What?_ ”

“The flowers,” Kitagawa repeats as if he’s talking to a particularly slow child. “For your wedding. I think blue would be nice, and it checks off something blue on your wedding—”

“If I strangle you, you’re going to be my something blue,” Akechi mutters, but that excessively controlling part of him takes over before he manages to stop himself. “Didn’t you say you wanted red, white, and gold? Blue would look a little out of place.”

“I knew you were the perfect person to discuss it with!” Kitagawa just barely refrains from touching him, but Akechi keeps the distance between them just to be safe. “That’s what I thought as well, but then when I asked Akira about his flower preference, he said he’d prefer hydrangeas. The others just keep telling me to let it go since there’s not going to be a wedding—”

“Because there’s not going to be a wedding.”

“And Akira did listen to me rather intently, but I think he’s not actually interested. He said he doesn’t intend to go through with the wedding. But he said we can still make it a party since he already promised me I’d be your wedding planner.”

“He said that?” Akechi snorts. “Good. For once, we’re agreeing on something.”

He ignores that petty part of him that stings. It’s what he wanted, didn’t he? For Akira _not_ to want to marry him.

Still, he wanted to be the one to say it first. Just to make sure for once, he’s the one in charge of his own fucking feelings.

“So where is everybody?”

He doesn’t really give a shit. But it’s not like he can just casually ask about Akira, he doesn’t want Kitagawa to get even more excited.

“Morgana called for a war council,” Kitagawa furrows his eyebrows. “I told him it’s rather inappropriate to call it that, and being a like-minded individual, Akira most likely agreed with me, because he stormed off, and refused to join the meeting.”

Akechi highly doubts that the two are like-minded, but he keeps it to himself. Still, it’s rather strange for Akira to abandon his friends so easily. “Oh dear. Did you have a disagreement?”

He genuinely hopes he sounds concerned, and not excited. It’s been a while since he had to play nicely, but Kitagawa should be easy enough to fool.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it that. He merely said he needed some time alone.” 

Time alone? Or time with Maruki? Are the two plotting behind his back?

Kitagawa must be more perceptive than he looks, because he leans in incredibly close, his long eyelashes inches away from Akechi’s face. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume he’s trying to kiss him. “You should relax. Akira would never betray you, or any of us.”

He doesn’t say _‘Unlike you,’_ , but it’s very much implied.

Akechi puts some distance between them, doing his best to stay polite rather than wrap his hands around Kitagawa’s slender neck like he originally planned. He could use an ally, and the gullible, pure-hearted artist might be just what he needed. Even if he’s only here because Maruki made him want to be friends with him. 

“So I assume Maruki was the one who suggested you should be our wedding planner,” he says casually, just to get it out of the way.

“He did say my keen eye for beauty might prove useful.”

So that’s a yes. But just to make sure—

“Yusuke,” Akechi smiles sweetly. “Is it okay if I call you Yusuke?”

“Of course!” Yusuke beams, like a fool. “Truthfully, I thought you’d never ask.”

Well, as long as he doesn’t call him Goro, that’s totally fine. Still, he should give him something in return.

“Tell me more about your plans, _Yusuke_.”

He manages to smile and nod as Yusuke talks about flowers, color arrangements, beverages, and the sitting plan—as if they need one with only the Phantom Thieves as the wedding guests—sometimes adding his own opinion.

No matter how hard he tries, it’s nearly impossible to convince Yusuke that there isn’t going to be a wedding, which is likely just another leftover of Maruki’s festive lobotomy.

“Hydrangeas then,” Akechi agrees after what feels like hours, doing his best not to show his impatience. “Maruki already _generously_ provided me with a tuxedo, so that just leaves you guys to pick whatever outfits you want.”

“That’s a relief,” Yusuke smiles brightly. “I was quite nervous that your questionable fashion sense would ruin the wedding photos.”

So now he’s getting roasted by Akira’s half-wit friends, and apparently, he’s Kitagawa’s new dress-up doll. Well, isn’t this just fantastic. 

He’s actually looking forward to how much more disastrous Maruki’s _perfect_ reality can get. Is he going to get Sae to be his maid of honor? His father to walk him down the aisle?

He really will need to keep himself from saying all of these out loud. Provided Maruki doesn’t have the magical ability to read his mind already.

When he looks up, Yusuke’s looking at him through his fingers, putting him inside a frame. “Ah, the self-loathing, utter despair, apathy that can only come from the poorly arranged marriage. You simply must allow me to capture it in a painting. It could be a wedding gift.”

Maybe he can ask Maruki to brainwash him, after all. He doesn’t think he’ll agree to provide them with alcohol, and he doesn’t think he can take another five, no, likely already four days of it.

Speaking of which—

“Yusuke, how are you going to get your hands on...” Akechi gestures vaguely. “Well, everything you mentioned.”

“Maruki says that whatever we have planned, it will be ready for the ceremony.”

Interesting.

Akechi supposes guns are out of the question, and he’d really like one as a wedding gift.

“You worry too much,” Yusuke points out, like he knows him. “You’re a lot like Akira in that matter.”

“We’re nothing alike.”

It’s not Akechi who says that. 

Akechi wonders if he wishes really hard for it, Akira won’t be there when he turns around, but it does seem like the exact opposite of what Maruki wants for them.

Yusuke quickly excuses himself, muttering something or other about talking Futaba into being a DJ, and he walks away so fast he might as well be capable of teleporting, likely to give them some space.

Akechi’s heartbeat skips a bit just for a second when he turns around. He chooses to ignore it.

Akira doesn’t look pleased to see him, but his hands are trembling ever-so-slightly when he puts them inside his pockets. “We’ve been looking for you. Where have you been?”

“Here and there,” Akechi responds evasively. “Looking around.”

“Is that right?”

Maybe at some point, he’ll tell Akira about his encounter with Maruki. But for now, he can’t trust anyone, especially someone who went behind his back in the first place.

“Someone looks anxious,” he says mockingly. “Were you scared of being left at the altar, Joker?”

“You’re not one to run away from a fight,” Akira rolls his eyes. “I just didn’t want you to do anything reckless, since we only have four days to get this right. Let’s make it count.”

It oddly sounds like a safe room pep-talk.

They already wasted one day with his forced therapy. 

As much as he hates to admit, he’ll likely have to team up with Akira to get to the bottom of this. The others might be useful little puppets, but Akira’s the only one who’s always been able to keep up with Akechi.

“I wish I knew what you were thinking when you agreed to this.”

He already saw the inside of Akira’s head once—even if it was just a cognition. He wants nothing more than to pry his skull open, and carefully examine everything within.

“I had my reasons,” Akira replies, equally evasive. Akechi snorts, but he supposes it’s only fair since neither of them has a lot of trust left in them to spare. “For now, let’s just say I want to get out of here.”

“Do you really think he’ll let us go just like that?” Akechi challenges. “Just because we kiss and make up?”

“I don’t know,” Akira admits, rubbing his temples. “But what other choice do we have? It doesn’t mean anything to you, it doesn’t mean anything to me. We should just get it over with.”

“You know what it means to me,” Akechi says coldly. “I spent all my life doing shitty adults’ bidding. I thought you out of all people would understand.”

Akira takes a step back, looking as if someone slapped him. 

“I’m not forcing you into doing anything,” he says quietly, and completely un-Joker-like, which makes it even worse. He falls silent for a moment, the gears of his brains slowly working around what he’s trying to say, or maybe what he’s allowing himself to say to Akechi.

When he speaks again, there’s a silent fury to his words unlike Akechi’s ever heard:

“I’m only going to say it once. Maruki asked me to make _my_ decision and I made it. I’m not some sort of omniscient indestructible god-being all of you assume I am. Maybe I fucked up. Maybe marrying you is going to be the worst mistake of my life. But I’m not going to hold you at gunpoint just to have to say _‘I do’_ , either. I’m sure we can call Maruki right now, and say we’d rather live in his shitty reality. Is this what would make you happy?”

“Don’t be stupid, I’m—”

But Akira’s clearly tired of listening to him. 

“And there’s nothing that would make you happy,” Akira continues with spite. “You’re going to blame me, then Maruki, frankly anyone who gets within your vicinity, because you’re so hellbent on being miserable, that you’re too afraid of making a single decision of your own. So let me simplify it for you. _I_ want to get out of here. Do you?”

Akechi doesn’t know how to deal with the stranger standing in front of him.

It feels like he’s missing one piece of a bigger puzzle, something that should make Akira’s anger justifiable. Something that would help Akechi understand. He feels weirdly out of his element, with Akira so cold and distant as if Akechi’s presence was an eyesore.

“Fine,” he answers eventually. “I do want to get out of here. But if we work together, I’m sure we’ll be able to find a different solution. But for now...”

Admitting his defeat was always the hardest thing. And losing to Akira is both the most difficult and the easiest of failures. 

“We should go with it for now,” he decides. “See how the situation develops. And use the remaining time to investigate, maybe there’s some other way out of here.”

Akira’s shoulders relax visibly in relief. “Good. None of it will matter anyway, once we get out of here. Even if we have to get married, it won’t be legally binding back in the real world. I can’t even begin to imagine what Maruki was thinking.”

“Is it really weirder than me getting acquitted of all charges?” Akechi challenges. “I think we’ve already established that in this reality, anything goes. Including gay marriage, apparently.”

He puts a hand to his chin pensively, sensing Akira’s keen gaze without as much as looking up. “Still, it does make you stop and wonder. If he’s projecting his failed relationship with Rumi, why not pick someone who actually fits the picture? Someone more fragile who already proved to be less resilient.”

“You mean like Sumire?” Akira asks, mirroring Akechi’s pose. “No, it couldn’t be her. I’m sure it had to be you.”

“Why?” Akechi presses. “What makes you so sure?”

Akira almost doesn’t hesitate. Almost. 

“I don’t know,” he says, averting his gaze. 

“We’re not even married yet, and you’re already lying to me?” Akechi snorts. “You’re doing a great job of convincing me to trust you so far. As if it’s not hard enough to marry someone I absolutely despise.”

When Akira looks up again, he looks determined, and his eyes are colder and more foreign than Akechi’s ever seen them.

“Did you ever stop and think I don’t want to be with you?” he says slowly, each word as precise as every stab of his knife. “Not to mention marry you? Hell, it’s even a struggle to be around you.”

Akechi opens his mouth, but Akira just holds out his hand to stop him, the same silent rage back with double the force. “And before you sass me again, it’s exactly for that reason that I think we should go through with it. I just want to get this over with. We say _‘I do’,_ and then I get to never see your face again.”

Akechi hates how it makes sense.

“We could also just kick Maruki’s ass,” he offers somewhat weakly even to his own ears.

“With what?” Akira actually rolls his eyes at him. “A wedding bouquet? He made it pretty clear we’re trapped here, and he doesn’t intend to let us fight him. He has full control of this reality, whether we like it or not. Once he sets us free, it’s over. We don’t have to see each other again. I’m sure that sounds tempting to you, just as much as it does to me.”

“It does,” Akechi admits, crossing his arms. “But I’m also amazed that you think I’m so thick that I don’t see you’re hiding something from me. Though, I suppose it shouldn’t be all that surprising with the company you usually keep.”

Akira ignores his comment. “You were the one who came to me, all pragmatic and composed when all of it started. So let’s be just that. We need to stay cool-headed if we’re going to defeat him.”

Calm and collected.

He has no idea why there’s so much rage in both of them. If it’s also Maruki’s doing, or it’s simply a matter of being under so much pressure. 

At the same time, he can’t ignore his instincts that all but scream in alarm that there’s something wrong, something’s missing, something that he should be seeing but it’s not there.

What the hell is going with Akira? When did he turn so bitter?

“Let’s make a deal,” Akira says in the same business-like tone Akechi used in the laundromat in what feels like eons ago. “We need to get out of this reality—no matter what it takes. Let’s join forces on this. Nothing’s changed, we still share the same goal.”

“I think this puts quite a different ring to _‘partner up’_ ,” Akechi points out, just because he can. Akira doesn’t laugh, but he sees the corner of his lips twitch slightly, and it gives him a strange feeling of satisfaction.

Their roles really did reverse, huh. Akechi still doesn’t know how he feels about it. 

“I think we need to make it official,” Akira still looks at him somewhat stiffly, but some of the ice melts away from his gaze. “But forgive me if I don’t get down on my knees for you.”

“I’d never say yes to someone who would,” Akechi replies, and finally, Akira smiles, but not the Akira smile—it’s the cheeky, Joker-like grin as if they’re about to do something dangerous and stupid. Well, they are. It’s the Metaverse equivalent of getting married in Vegas.

Akira extends his hand, expecting Akechi to shake it.

Akechi stares at it for a moment. “Without a doubt, this is the most bizarre proposal I’ve ever witnessed, and keep in mind that once upon a time, I was a celebrity.”

He’s just stalling at this point. 

He wonders if Akira knows. That by shaking his hands, Akechi’s fate is all but sealed.

It’s more than probable that with Maruki’s reality gone, Akechi will die. 

He never wanted Akira to accept Maruki’s reality, and Akira refused it the first time Maruki put the offer on the table. Technically, he shouldn’t have a reason not to trust his judgment.

He just never expected Maruki to make the stakes so high. Even being a madman that Maruki certainly is, Akechi never anticipated this development. 

It’s funny.

Understanding Shido was easy. Maybe because in the end, Akechi really is his father’s son—twisted, pragmatic, relentless, and unafraid to destroy anything in his path. But Maruki is different. Like Akira, he’s just another sentimental fool doing what he thinks is best for everyone. 

But maybe he’s not being fair.

Akira never gave him an ultimatum. They were both slaves in this reality, and what he asks for is not obedience—it’s cooperation. Still, he can’t help but feel apprehensive, unable to trust anything or anyone whose goal he doesn’t clearly understand.

If he takes Akira’s hand, will he still be free?

Is it really his own decision? Or is he like Yusuke, brainwashed and fooled into believing it’s what he actually wants?

But Akira’s right. If he questions everything about this reality, refusing to make his own decision, he’ll always remain a stringless puppet. Maybe it’s not Akira who’s been acting spineless. 

Maybe it was Akechi all along.

He takes a deep breath and shakes Akira’s hand.

There are a lot of things he feels at once.

Just for a short moment, it feels like being devoured by a flame, but even then Akechi makes sure to keep his expression stone-cold. He sees it, a faint blue flame extending from Akira’s hand, and twirling playfully around their joined hands. It happens so quickly that if Akechi blinked, he surely would have missed it.

Arsène withdraws quickly with nothing to show but the lingering warmth on Akechi’s skin.

His own Persona isn’t there—still dormant, as if it never existed in the first place. It makes some childish jealousy boil inside his stomach. Akira was always the special one though, wasn’t he? It makes sense that out of the two of them, it’s Akechi who’s been abandoned even by something that was supposed to be a part of him. 

Akira doesn’t pay much attention to the flame. Either he didn’t notice, or he just considers that part completely normal—one way or another, he doesn’t react. Akechi feels weirdly empty and cold when Akira’s hand lets go of his, the warmth of Arsène’s flame disappearing back into the void.

“If possible,” Akechi says. “I’d prefer it if we called it a pact, rather than engagement.”

“Sure, I’m glad we got this over with,” Akira wipes his hand against his jeans as if Akechi’s touch was the most repulsive thing on Earth. Akechi doesn’t know how he feels about feeling looked down upon by Akira out of all people, but he can’t bring himself to fight him.

Which perhaps, should be alarming. But the flame left him empty and exhausted, and he can’t bring himself to make a spark.

“Likewise.”

He feels weirdly empty. And while it’s not exactly a new sensation, it feels weirdly uncomfortable, as if he irreplaceably lost something he might never get back.

Akira’s gaze lingers for a moment, and just for a moment, he looks disappointed, like he expected _something_ to happen as well. “I should join the war council.”

“I’ll leave you to it.”

As he watches Akira walk away, his body is still aching for something that he still can’t place. Perhaps, it’s the same something that Akira anticipated, but he doubts Akira would tell him what it was, even if he asked him.

* * *

_“Why does it matter when I’m already dead back in the real world?”_

_“Akechi-kun,” Maruki says quietly, with pity that makes his skin crawl. “I am fully aware of what happened in the engine room.”_

_“Did you tell him?” Akechi laughs, ugly and humorless. “Is this how you got him to agree to this?”_

_“Of course not,” Maruki shakes his head. “I would never use something as grave as this to sway his opinion.”_

_“Don’t pretend you care about our consent. You’re keeping us trapped here for your own amusement. Is this what this room is about? You want to watch us during our wedding night, and get off to it? You could probably make us do anything, and yet, you want us to trust you.”_

_“Believe it or not, I actually want what’s best for you.”_

_“You know what’s astonishing about you?” Akechi says venomously. “That you actually think you’re a good person.”_

_“Isn’t this how you felt, too?” Maruki says, prying into his brain as gentle as a drill. “That you were supposed to be the hero? Didn’t you want what he has?”_

_“I told you, this won’t work on me. Try someone who actually cares about what other people think of them.”_

_“And you don’t?”_

_“There’s no point anymore,” Akechi cackles, feeling like he’s going mad. Maybe Maruki’s doing a great job of winding him up, after all. “Shido’s already been taken care of. For all we know, I’m dead. The public doesn’t even know who I am anymore. So do me a favor doc, and tell me. Why am I even here?”_

_He doesn’t know why he asks. It doesn’t matter if he’s going to die anyway. Still, it would be nice to be something more than a piece of gum stuck to Akira’s shoe, and it seems that’s all he’ll ever be inside this reality._

_“You want to know if you’re the same as Wakaba-san and Okumura-san.”_

_“Yes, asshole, that’s exactly what I mean.”_

_Maruki makes a face like he’s about to scold him for the language, but decides against it. Then again, they are near a chapel, so maybe swearing is a little inappropriate. Akechi feels close to collapsing from the absurdity of it all._

_“You’re only here,” Maruki says slowly. “Because that was your wish. I’m not holding anyone hostage. It’s what you wanted.”_

_Akechi clenches his teeth. He could very well deny it, but Maruki can probably tell when he’s lying. He’s not as stupid as he pretends to be. So instead, he asks:_

_“Is this what Akira wanted, too?”_

_Maruki smiles oddly, a dark shadow flashing across his face, almost as if he forgot for a moment that he’s supposed to play the good guy. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the treatment of my other patients.”_

_“He doesn’t need treatment,” Akechi snarls. “And if he does, then certainly not from you.”_

_“Perhaps,” Maruki shrugs as he gets up. “But maybe he needs something else. Something only you can give him.”_

_“Isn’t this cute?” Akechi mocks him. “Do you actually believe this ‘Love heals’ crap? Because if you’re as benevolent as you claim to be, then do Akira a favor. Don’t make him believe for a second I care about him. Or any of them, in fact.”_

_Maruki stares at him for a long time before answering;_

_“I think you might need a lesson in kindness.”_

_A sudden wave of drowsiness hits him hard enough to knock him off his feet._

_He can feel someone, likely Maruki, lift him off the floor and place him on the bed like he’s a fragile toy. He’s too tired to fight him off, and even when he tries, he finds himself unable to make a single sound._

_With his mind only half-present, he can still hear Maruki’s soft voice coming somewhere from afar._

_“You won’t remember a lot from this conversation. But please believe me, you’re going to be so happy, Akechi-kun. Just wait and see.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: something borrowed!


	4. something borrowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Everything that happens here...it’s not real, remember? So I’m asking once again. What do you want, Goro Akechi?"_

_It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs._

**1 Corinthians 13:5**

* * *

_  
“What are you doing?”_

_Akira drops the phone on the bed, covering it with a pillow in a way that absolutely shouldn’t be considered suspicious. “Nothing.”_

_“Take a picture, it lasts longer, huh?” Goro’s voice seems indifferent, but his eyes are full of disdain that he’s never been too good at hiding. He props himself up on the elbow to look at Akira properly. “Too bad you can’t turn off the sound of the camera shutter. Give me the phone, Kurusu.”_

_“No,” Akira says, his heart beating faster. “Make me.”_

_Goro rolls his eyes, moving fast, the way he always does, shoving Akira’s hand away with surprising strength to grab the phone from under the pillow. He doesn’t ask for Akira’s passcode, and yet he easily unlocks the phone, scrolling through Akira’s camera roll with an unreadable expression._

_“I must say,” he says slowly. “I wasn't aware you took so many. June? Really, Kurusu? You’ve been pining for me for so long? I thought you were less pathetic than that.”_

_Akira can’t say anything in his defense. He watches with humiliation as Goro scrolls through the pictures, his nose scrunching up more visibly at some than others. Finally, he scrolls back to the last one._

_He expects Goro to make a comment, but he doesn’t, staring at the picture for a moment. Akira tries to think of what he wanted to capture. He shouldn’t feel so guilty, should he? All he wanted just a single memory from their first night together after Goro got back. That single good thing Maruki gave them._ _So when he woke up to find Goro peacefully asleep, dark circles under his eyes, his hair a mess—the most imperfect Akira’s ever seen him—he couldn’t help himself. He realized the sound of the camera was bound to wake Goro up, but it’s not like it ever stopped him before._

_“Keep it,” Goro says, his voice weirdly far away. The phone slips from his hand, and Akira catches it swiftly before it hits the mattress._

_It’s not what he expected. “Are you sure?”_

_“You seem desperate to have something to remember me by,” Goro gives him a wry smile, his voice jumping an octave in an overly sweet way. Always the tell-tale sign of a lie. “I hope it warms your lonely nights when I’m gone.”_

_“So you’re just going to split after everything is over?” Akira raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”_

_Goro almost doesn’t hesitate, but Akira knows him long enough to recognize when he’s up to something._

_“For now, let’s worry about tomorrow’s infiltration,” Goro says in a voice that ends the discussion. “I’m not sure what it is I want to do after everything’s said and done. Kicking Maruki’s ass seems like as good a goal as any.”_

_“Goro, I—”_

_“Promise me,” Goro meets his eyes. “No banal goodbyes. That’s the only thing I want.”_

_Akira clenches his fingers around the phone. He’s silent long enough that Goro leans in to kiss him briefly, and even something about the kiss feels strangely off. It’s piercing, like Goro’s trying to get something out of it, something more than just another way to distract Akira._

_“I promise,” Akira says into the kiss. Goro bites his lip playfully as he pulls away, for the first time looking somewhat content._

_He drags his finger across Akira’s kiss-swollen lips. “You’d better remember that promise, Joker.”_

“Joker, what do you think?”

Akira snaps back into reality. Morgana looks at him expectantly, but he can’t remember at all what it is they were going to discuss before he started daydreaming.

“Sorry, I spaced out,” he mutters apologetically. “Can you summarize the last two minutes for me?”

“You look tired,” Haru points out, leaning over to examine him carefully. “Maybe we should take a break?”

“It’s not like this conversation is going anywhere,” Ann covers her mouth to hide a yawn. “I’m bored, too.”

“Mona, Oracle,” Akira says suddenly. The two turn to face him with equally sour expressions. “Anything about this place feels off to you?”

Futaba rests her forehead on the table. “It’s not like I can sense much when I’m like this. Sorry, Joker.”

“Try anyway?” Makoto chimes in. “It might be important if Joker says so.”

Morgana swishes his tail impatiently. “Well, Oracle is right. She likely can’t sense anything without her Persona. It’s a little different for me—I’m much more connected to the Metaverse than she’s ever been.”

“So what’s the verdict?”

“It feels different from the rest of the Palace,” Morgana states. “Maybe a little like a safe room. It’s very...stable.”

“I thought these rooms were safe because of the ruler’s weakened powers in a given area?” Haru points out, rubbing Morgana between the ears. “Is that the case here?”

“It’s more like his power seems a little immeasurable here,” Morgana shakes his head. “The real world is pretty much merged with the Metaverse now, isn’t it? This place is stable _because_ of that power.”

“So Maruki has full control here?” Ryuji asks. “That doesn’t seem that different than the rest of the Palace.”

“What about the treasure?” Akira asks. “Can you sense it from here?”

“I can barely sense anything, Joker.” Morgana looks at him apologetically. “I’m sorry. But it’s like something’s messing with my perception. There’s too much… input. It’s like hearing a lot of noises all at once. The treasure is here, I’m sure of it, it’s just—”

“—it’s constantly shifting,” Akira finishes. “Like it’s not fully manifested.”

“How did you know?”

Akira doesn’t answer. “There’s one other thing that bugs me. If we’ve been in the Metaverse for so long, why are we not tired?”

“Well, we’re not exactly fighting anything…” Ann twirls her hair around her finger. “I’m just bored, personally. It’s weird not to have our Personas here.”

“Shouldn’t it be even more tiring, then?” Akira challenges. “Metaverse is hard for non-Persona users.”

“We _are_ Persona users,” Morgana slams his tail on the table, making them flinch. “I’m sure whatever is messing with my head, is messing with our abilities as well.”

“It might be that our cognition of time itself is somewhat warped,” Makoto says. “Maruki told us days would pass, and I guess we just, uh…believed it.”

“Can that really happen?” Ryuji asks Morgana, like he has all the answers.

“You’re forgetting he’s not your average Palace Ruler,” Morgana sighs. “He easily took away our powers, who knows what else he’s capable of?”

They all turn to look at Akira now. It’s decision time, isn’t it? And even if he doesn’t fully feel like Joker at the moment, he’s still their leader. They’re counting on him.

“That settles it,” Akira says. “We’re doing this. We’re completely defenseless. As much as I hate to admit it, for now, we have to play along.”

Makoto eyes him carefully. “Will Akechi play along?”

Akira silently mulls over all the things he could say, all verging on some pure absurdity that he never expected himself to experience.

 _Sure, we’re getting hitched._ _He said yes!_ _I put a ring on it!_

Okay, he didn’t put a ring on it. Technicalities. Not like any of them cares.

“He agreed to my terms,” he says vaguely, trying his best to faint indifference. He can’t recall the last time he was completely honest with his friends, but not a single part of him feels guilty about it now.

“Oh, Akira…” Ann whispers. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, probably too quickly because Ann narrows her eyes, and he can already sense a deep conversation coming up that he’s not willing to have in front of the others. Akira’s mind desperately searches for a way out, doing his best to ignore the way all the girls in the room are now looking at him with a mix of suspicion and pity. Ryuji looks way too busy fighting his shoelaces, and Morgana seems very preoccupied with the poor state of his tail.

Makoto clears her throat, like she’s slamming down a gavel to bring order back into the courtroom.

“So about Maruki,” she says in her authoritative voice. From her gaze, he can easily deduce that he’s still under suspicion, but at least he dodged the bullet for now. “It seems we all had certain tasks. Are we supposed to keep them a secret?”

“He didn’t say anything about it,” Morgana points out. “Mine wasn’t anything big anyway. He just said I’m invited to a wedding.”

“Same here,” Ann shrugs. “Nothing interesting.”

“Ditto,” Futaba says, somewhat disappointed. “He took away all my stuff too, I’m booored. Oh wait, I guess he told me I can pick the music for the ceremony. How are you guys feeling about dubstep to represent the mental state of the grooms? No? Funeral March, then?”

“He didn’t speak to me at all,” Sumire hangs her head low. “But I’m glad he didn’t, after everything that happened.”

“As for me,” Makoto says, somewhat uncomfortably. “He told me I should take over as the leader if Joker becomes, um—”

“You can say it,” Akira says flatly. “A liability?”

“ _Biased_ is the word he used.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Futaba looks up for the first time during the conversation. “He's not even trying to be the super-villain, what kind of final boss is that?”

“Maybe he wants it to be a fair fight,” Ann says weakly, like she doesn’t believe her own words.

“Nothing about this situation is fair,” Akira sighs. Everyone else just looks at him grimly.

“Hey, where’s Yusuke?” Ryuji asks, completely oblivious to the change of the atmosphere in the room. He probably zoned out in the middle of the conversation, and Akira can’t really blame him.

“Likely getting murdered by Akechi,” he says. “Akechi’s in a mood.”

“Should we save him?” Sumire asks pensively. Akira can almost see the cogs of her mind trying to come up with a nice way of expressing what she’s about to say. “Akechi senpai can be, uh… a little intense!”

“Last time I checked, it was Akechi who needed saving,” Akira chuckles. “They’re both a little intense.”

“Inari and Akechi,” Futaba muses. “With any luck, they’ll just bore each other to death.”

Akira takes a deep breath. “They’re not so—”

“Can we split for now?” Ryuji stretches, letting his legs drop from the table. “I have things to do.”

Ann looks up with sudden interest. “None of us have anything to do, Ryuji. Unless you have a plan.”

Makoto pins him with her gaze immediately. “That said, you never mentioned—”

Ryuji gets up way too quickly for it not to be suspicious. “Akira, let’s go out for a moment.”

“Ryuji!”

Before he knows it, Akira’s being pushed through the door, painfully aware of everyone’s eyes on them. He lets the doors fall shut behind them. Only then, he yanks his arm away from Ryuji’s grip, turning around to face him. “What the hell?”

“Come on,” Ryuji rolls his eyes. “You wanted to get out of there just as much as I did. You’re exhausted. And you and I both know you didn’t want to tell them what you and Maruki talked about. You don’t need to tell me, just—are you okay?”

Akira does think the discussion was completely pointless, but he decides not to say it. He thinks longingly about the sofa in his dressing room—exhausted. Right. “I’m fine. I’m just...fine.”

“Say it one more time, and I’ll believe you, man.”

“I said, I’m fine!”

A vase next to him smashes into pieces. Oh, right—Akira punched it. His hand hurts but it doesn’t look like it broke the skin. He feels weirdly detached from his own body, stretching out his fingers for a moment. The part of him that was raised to be a polite upstanding citizen wants to bend down to pick up the pieces, but before he can, they vanish into the ground like melted snow.

Right, of course. They can’t have anything dangerous in the chapel unless they want Akechi to gut them before anyone says ‘I do.’

Akira runs his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath. What the hell is wrong with him? “Sorry, I’m just under a lot of stress right now. I wish I could get some time to actually _think_.”

To his surprise, Ryuji doesn’t pry. “Dude, say no more. I know just the place.”

“Holy shit.”

Ryuji led him through the set of corridors, dropping a small ladder from the ceiling. The rooftop is square, completely not matching the shape of the building under it. They’re surrounded by the void—white and bright, stretching out as far as the eye can see. Akira leans over the wall to look down, but the rest of the building is hidden in the milk-like fog.

They’re quite literally in the middle of nowhere—most likely drifting in the weird fog substance, hanging on by some weird whim of Maruki’s power.

“No escape, huh?” Akira says grimly.

His thief instincts are screaming at him—to find a way out; to find some clever solution to all of this. It’s why he’s the leader, isn’t he? But no matter how much he strains his eyes, he can’t see anything that could imply there’s a path below. Maruki probably made it physically impossible to escape anyway.

“How did you find this place?” Akira asks hoarsely.

Ryuji furrows his eyebrows in a poor attempt to come up with a lie. “I saw the ladder when we were looking for Akechi?”

“You’re _asking_ me?”

“Fine,” Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Don’t do that Joker thing on me. Maruki told me about this place.”

Akira has half a mind to ask him about the _Joker thing,_ but he decides the second part is far more important for now. “When?”

“When we got separated,” Ryuji shrugs. Akira raises an eyebrow. “Dude, I swear he didn’t brainwash me. He asked me a couple of questions about you, so I told him to go fuck himself, and then he said that if you ever need time to think, there’s this place I should tell you about. You’re not mad at me, are ya?”

“No,” Akira sighs, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “It’s fine, Ryuji.”

“That said,” Ryuji grins, clearly proud of himself. “I found something you’re gonna love. Wait here!”

Akira watches him go. He takes one look around and decides to climb the small wall to look down on the fog beneath his feet. Maruki wanted him to see it. It’s why he told Ryuji about this place—but to what end?

Still, it does feel nice to be away from everything. The more time passes, the more it feels like the chapel’s walls are closing in on him. He fondly recalls his first conversation with Ryuji upon the school’s rooftop. It already feels like it happened years ago.

Akira reaches out with his hand to touch the fog surrounding them—just like the actual fog, it has no real substance. If anything, it feels a little colder.

“Don’t jump!”

Ryuji’s voice catches him off guard, and he barely manages to keep his balance, but Ryuji’s hand is there on his jacket to slowly guide him safely back on the ground. “Fuck, Ryuji, I wasn’t about to. You scared the shit out of me.”

Ryuji grins. “Dude, you said fuck.”

“So?”

“That’s hot.”

Akira snorts, pushing his hand away. “Thanks, that’s kind of my brand. What do you have here?”

“There’s this mini-fridge in my room,” Ryuji lowers his voice, so Akira needs to lean in closer to hear him. “And I found… _al-co-hol_.”

“Really,” Akira says skeptically. “Maruki left a bunch of teens with _alcohol_. What could go wrong?”

“Well, villain or not, he’s a guy. He gets that you probably can’t get married sober.”

Ryuji throws him a can of beer, and Akira catches it mid-flight with a sour expression.

“Asahi,” he recognizes. His father drinks it a lot. “Ah, that explains it. This one says it’s non-alcoholic.”

“What?!” Ryuji looks at his own can, like he’s hoping that his beer says something else entirely. “What the hell, Maruki?! They make non-alcoholic beer?! What’s the effing point of that!”

“Beats me,” Akira chuckles. “Adults are weird.”

“Oh man, and I was so excited to give it a try,” Ryuji groans. He looks so disappointed that Akira can’t help but pat his back comfortingly.

“I can try to get us the real thing when we’re out,” he offers. “It’s hardly the most illegal thing we’ve done.”

“Wouldn’t be the same,” Ryuji sighs. “I wanted us to have a cool bro moment, drinking beer on the rooftop, all that… Maruki fucking sucks.”

“We can still do that?” Akira opens his beer. “Come on, I bet it’s not that bad. We can pretend it’s real and have a cool bro moment anyway.”

Ryuji looks at him with a faint smile. “You always do this, man.”

“Do what?”

“You make others feel better when you’re the one who needs help.”

Akira lets out a fake laugh. “I don’t need help. I’m good.”

“Oh yeah?” Ryuji snorts. “Because there’s still a couple of vases you could break to make me r _eally_ believe you. Dude, you’re not a liar. I _know_ you. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

Akira bites his lip—maybe he’s been unfair to all of them, but isn’t it Ryuji who always despised Akechi the most out of everyone? Where should he even begin?

_Hey, remember that time you wanted to hang out, but I told you I’ve got stuff to do? Akechi was stuff._

_Remember that time when you guys went shopping, but I told you I have a bad headache, and it would be hard to leave the bed? Akechi was in that bed._

_Remember when I said I can’t study together because I need to clean up the attic? Akechi and I made a mess, doing less than appropriate stuff and he just watched me run around in panic, as Sojiro kept calling me from downstairs._

_Remember when I avoided everyone for a solid week? You guys thought I was so focused on getting Shido, when in reality, I needed time to mourn Akechi in peace._

“It’s about Akechi,” he says eventually. He sits down on the ground, and Ryuji settles heavily next to him, watching him in silence.

“I figured as much,” Ryuji says when Akira doesn’t say anything else. “So what about him?”

“I proposed to him,” Akira says, taking a sip of his non-alcoholic beer. He makes a face—it’s a little disgusting, but at least it’s cold.

“Wow, my condolences,” Ryuji whistles. He makes a similar face when drinking his beer. “Akechi is a lot. I knew you guys agreed to work together, but I didn’t know you proposed.”

Akira rolls his eyes. “We’re not actually getting married.”

“Yeah, but imagine fake-marrying _that_.”

Ryuji gestures vaguely, and Akira presses his lips together to stop himself from defending Akechi. Would it be out of character? Or maybe not defending Akechi is out of character? He can’t tell anymore.

“Still,” Ryuji says. “I might not be into dudes, but really, I’d marry you if that worked for Maruki.”

Akira scowls, but he accepts the praise. “Thanks man, that means a lot to me.”

“Really, you’d be kinda hot if you put more effort into your looks, maybe change the hair a lil’ bit…”

“Ryuji.”

“Well, just saying I’d totally bone you, even without changing your looks. I love you the way you are. We’re bros for life.”

“Wow, maybe I really would be better off marrying you,” Akira laughs bitterly. “Maruki doesn’t know shit about true love.”

“Love, huh?”

Ryuji’s always been sharp—he can be the most oblivious person in the room or the most perceptive one. It’s always one or the other. He helps Akira up to his feet, and they both look down over the edge of the abyss in silent contemplation.

“What if I prefer Yusuke?” Akira challenges to change the subject. “Aside from constantly draining my wallet, I think he’d make for a very supportive husband.”

Ryuji snorts, crushing the beer can before letting it hit the ground. “Really? You’d take Yusuke over me?”

“We kind of fit,” Akira shrugs. “You know, I’m a nurturer. He needs...nurturing. He’s an artist, I could be his muse. It’s only a matter of time until he sees my true potential, and asks me to model for him.”

Ryuji puts his hands inside his pockets, kicking the empty can. Akira knows all Ryuji’s habits by now, and he knows when he’s just trying to buy himself more time to think, so he just watches him patiently for a moment. The can bounces off the wall, and it falls to the ground by Akira’s feet with a clang that makes him flinch just a little bit.

“The problem is that you do prefer Akechi,” Ryuji says eventually.

The thing about Ryuji is that he never avoids Akira’s eyes. Despite his tough-boy attitude, he’s too honest for his own good. He could never understand what it’s like—he’s not a born liar like Akira, or Akechi, for that matter. He envies the way Ryuji always seems to wear his heart on his sleeve. Then again, stealing hearts meant he never got to take a closer look at his own.

Akira kicks the can to give himself time to think. It flies over Ryuji’s head and off the roof, into the white void underneath the chapel. They don’t hear anything for a while, which only proves his grim suspicions that the void under their feet is very likely bottomless, or at least close to it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters.

“I know I’m dumb,” Ryuji says. “But you’ve never treated me like I’m _actually_ stupid. Don’t start now.”

Akira bites his tongue so hard he can taste his own blood. How much should he say? How much do his friends know? Hiding the truth from everyone was bound to bite him in the ass, eventually.

“How long have you known? Wait, do all of you know?”

“None of us _knew_ ,” Ryuji clarifies. “But yeah, we kinda figured.”

“Kinda figured?”

“Well okay,” Ryuji admits. “Futaba had your phone hacked, you idiot. Did you forget?”

Futaba. Right. Akira snorts–he spent months keeping up his charade only to trip over something so small. He thinks about all the messages, the cute pictures he saved on his camera roll. That reminds him—Futaba hacked Akechi’s phone that one time, too.

“Do you know if he—”

The words die in his mouth.

“There’s not much she could tell from his phone,” Ryuji says, reading his mind. “Some pictures for his food blog, but that was pretty much it. No music, no personal pictures, nothing really. The guy is a blank slate.”

Akira translates the information into what’s useful—so no pictures of Akira. No proof that they were ever together. That’s a good thing, right? If Shido found out, who knows if he wouldn’t just get rid of Akechi before they even infiltrated his Palace?

Akira sits back down on the ground, his back pressed against the cold wall behind him. It’s a strange sensation—the wall behind him has temperature, it’s solid, and yet somehow it barely has a texture. The entire chapel feels other-worldly, more ghost than a building.

“So what’s the deal, man?” Ryuji probes. “Why are ya so cold to him? You’re in love with him, aren’t ya?”

Akira snorts. “That’s a lot of questions at once.”

“And you don’t wanna answer any of them.”

“I just don’t want to lie to you anymore,” Akira says honestly. “But I can’t tell you the whole truth either. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Ryuji agrees quickly. “Whatever helps, man.”

Akira takes a deep breath. He’s not the type to make confessions. He’s never been one. That’s why he surrounds himself with people who can fill the silence for him—with their problems, their emotions, Akira takes all of them and wears them as whatever mask he deems fit, and he’s been that way even before he became a Phantom Thief.

“Maruki knew what he was doing when he picked Akechi,” Akira admits. “I am in love with him. I have been for some time now. We’ve been fooling around, we weren’t a couple, but I guess…we had a relationship. Of sorts.”

“And now Akechi doesn’t want to admit his feelings?” Ryuji asks like the loyal friend he is. “Fucking coward.”

“I don’t think he remembers what happened between us,” Akira explains carefully. It’s probably safe to tell Ryuji as much.

Ryuji rubs the back of his head awkwardly. “Man, that’s tough.”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re a fucking moron.”

Akira blinks at him slowly. “Excuse me?”

“So what, he doesn’t remember shit because of some Maruki mumbo-jumbo and now you’re taking it out on him?” Ryuji asks, each word digging painfully into Akira’s brain. “I mean, dude, don’t get me wrong. I hate that guy. I think there are plenty of other reasons to hate him. But this ain’t one.”

“I don’t hate Akechi,” Akira states. “I suppose he doesn’t hate me either. But I can’t force him to love me, and yet, apparently, I _can_ force him to marry me, and I already feel like shit just for that.”

“So you’re pushing him away?” Ryuji shakes his head. “Dude, we need to get out of here. I know it’s messed up, but I’m just worried about you. Like sure, you’ve always been Akechi’s hypothesis, or whatever—”

“Antithesis?” Akira offers. “Wait, you guys really were reading our messages.”

“Yeah, that!” Ryuji snaps his fingers, ignoring his comment. “But you always kind of got along. You don’t know what it’s like to watch you two from the sidelines. It’s like you’re this one terrifying mechanism, you just _work_ together. And right now, you’re punishing yourself _and_ Akechi. What is it that you want from him?”

“I—”

_I was hoping he’d say yes out of his own volition._

Ryuji’s right—Akira is being unfair to both of them. He never wanted to marry Akechi, not really, but he did want him to say yes. Yes, to their relationship. Yes, to the help Akira was offering. Yes, to the love Akechi could finally have if he could only return Akira’s feelings.

Well, that much he had regardless, did he? Akira loves Akechi, he never doubted his feelings. He got a second chance to be able to say it, and here he is, spending all this time lashing out. Even if Akechi doesn’t love him back, isn’t it enough of a blessing to love someone so badly even for a split second? Isn’t it worth it?

“Damn, Ryuji,” Akira whistles. “Being my best man made you so much wiser.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You called me a fucking moron,” Akira grins. “That’s hot.”

“It’s not too late to marry me instead but I’m starting to think I’m too good for you,” Ryuji punches his arm playfully. “Seriously, dude. Get your shit together. But wait—did you just call me your best man? It’s not like I was thinking you were gonna go through with this, but...”

“Well, you _are_ my best man,” Akira says softly. “You always will be.”

“Really?” Ryuji’s face actually brightens up. “I was scared you were gonna pick Yusuke!”

“So you _were_ thinking about it,” Akira sighs, but some of the tension from his shoulders eases upon seeing Ryuji’s grin. “Well, Yusuke is Akechi’s best man… I think. Best something, for sure.”

“You think he’s going to be okay?”

“Yusuke?”

“Akechi. I know that I said some mean stuff before, but uh… I kinda worry about the guy.”

Akira looks at Ryuji with surprise. He always assumed his friends despised Akechi—they had no reason not to. How much easier things would have been, had he chosen to trust them from the start.

Speaking of trust—

“You can ask him yourself,” Akira says, raising his voice. “You can join us, Akechi. We’re out of beer, but this rooftop is big enough for the three of us.”

Ryuji turns around with surprise as Akechi slowly climbs the last remaining steps of the ladder to emerge on the surface. “When did you notice?”

“Just now,” Akira feels a faint smile creep on his face. “You’re getting surprisingly good at hiding.”

“Always have been, you were just slow on the uptake,” Akechi doesn’t return his smile, but Akira knows him well enough to sense a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Ryuji pats Akira’s shoulder comfortingly. Akechi watches him go, still keeping his distance from Akira. He waits a moment to make sure Ryuji is far enough not to hear them. Akira stands up, and only then Akechi closes some of the distance between them.

“How was your meeting?”

“Inconclusive,” Akira shrugs. “But that much was clear from the start. Sorry for not including you but I assume you already had your hands full. Has Yusuke been helpful so far?”

“Somewhat,” Akechi admits begrudgingly. “If we’re going to do this, might as well do this properly. As insufferable as he is, he is a perfectionist, much like myself, so we do get along. What do you mean by _inconclusive_?”

“Not...conclusive?”

Akechi looks ready to kill him. “Fine, don’t tell me. I know you and your friends are plotting behind my back. I falsely assumed that my cooperation so far has brought me some privileges. I am your—ah, what’s the proper name again? Fiancé, isn’t it? It has the same origin as the word ‘confidence’, did you know?”

“That’s not what this is about, Akechi.”

“Then what is it about, Kurusu?” Akechi probes stubbornly. “You’re not making it easy to trust you.”

“Fine,” Akira sighs. “I’ll share something with you that I haven’t been able to tell them. Something that’s been bothering me since all of this began. But I need to ask you something first.”

Akechi looks at him expectantly, so he continues. “During the meeting, we established that most of us were given certain roles, or tasks to fulfill during the time we were apart. What about you? Did you see Maruki back then?”

“I did not,” Akechi answers easily and Akira knows he’s telling the truth. “But I know for a fact that Yusuke has. Do you think we’ve been brainwashed?”

“I wouldn’t go so far,” Akira rubs the back of his neck. “But everything about this is… troubling.”

“What do you mean?”

“So far, we’ve been playing straight into Maruki’s hands,” Akira says, looking at the endless horizon. “It seems that all of the actions we take lead us towards what Maruki wants. Everyone just accepted the roles they were given, no questions asked.”

Akechi’s voice is cold as ice when he speaks again. “Does that not include you?”

“What do you mean?” Akira turns to face him. “Of course, it includes me. We’re doing this, aren’t we?”

“There’s something else,” Akechi narrows his eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me—I’m not one of your half-wit friends. You’re hiding something, and while you did a pathetic job of hiding our supposed relationship—”

“So you were eavesdropping from the start?”

“—you’re not as stupid as you want them to believe. So what is it? What does Maruki want from you that’s so precious that you can’t bring yourself to tell me, or your _loyal_ teammates about it?”

Akira doesn’t flinch. He should feel cornered, but his head has never been clearer—there are still secrets he doesn’t intend to share, and he doesn’t think Akechi really wants to learn. He’s just here to boast about what Akira assumes is a scaringly accurate in-depth analysis of his actions.

“I already know your motive,” Akechi says predictably, looking so sure of himself it almost makes Akira smile. “Whatever it is Maruki said to you, you have no reason to doubt his actions. You could have been brainwashed, that’s likely true for all of us, but let’s assume that didn’t happen. You played everyone—trying to be cold to me, acting like you don’t want this wedding to happen. But you do, don’t you? You knew that by acting obtuse, you were more likely to get what you wanted.”

Akira regards him calmly. “Knowing all of that, are you still going to go through with this?”

It’s the only thing that matters.

“I want to get out of here,” Akechi says slowly, his voice shaking just enough for Akira to pick up on his anger. “But you knew as much, didn’t you? That even if I knew about your ulterior motives, I’d still say yes. So answer me this, Joker—why bother? Why keep up this ridiculous charade just to manipulate me and your friends when we’d just go with whatever it is you want anyway?”

“I have my reasons. None of which you would be able to understand.”

In a split second, Akechi’s hands are on him, pulling him closer by the lapels of his jacket. “Don’t give me that crap. You don’t get to rule over my life, and then just assume I wouldn’t understand.”

“I don’t—”

“It’s always about you,” Akechi snarls. “About what _you_ want, _your_ friends, _your_ plans, _your_ desires. Don’t worry—I still intend to follow through with my end of the bargain. But it’s never been more clear to me that I’m _nothing_ to you.”

Akira decides not to speak for a moment. He makes no attempt to defend himself, and Akechi’s hands drop uselessly to his sides, his gaze stubbornly fixed on the ground.

“ _Crow_ ,” Akira says when Akechi calms down. “Listen to me carefully. If I told you this once that you can have whatever you want—your deepest desires satisfied with a snap of my fingers—what would you have done?”

“There’s nothing I want this badly,” Akechi hisses, and Akira laughs in the most hollow way.

“Sure,” Akira snorts. “But really—what do you want?”

Akechi crosses his arms, staring into the abyss for a moment. “You expect me to want something? Now, when it’s not even real?”

“That’s right, nothing that happens here is real,” Akira confirms. “Does that make you feel better? It should, shouldn’t it? You can be selfish, you can focus on what it is you really want, stripped of everything else holding you back. Nothing matters here.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“So if I killed you right now,” Akechi says, slowly getting closer to him. “Then that also wouldn’t be real?”

Well, okay. Maybe except for that part.

Akira starts moving, two steps backward every time Akechi takes one step forward. It’s not long until the back of his legs hits the low wall behind him.

Facts—if Akechi’s going to push him, Akira’s going to fall into the white abyss. Even in Maruki’s Palace, it will most likely result in certain death. He’s still unclear whether it’s possible for him to die here, but he sure is about to find out.

“Do you know what it’s like?” Akechi asks. “To kill, knowing there won’t be any consequences? Knowing you’re the only one allowed to walk this secret world, a place far away from all these shitty adults? To know you have the power to decide their fate?”

“It sounds lonely,” Akira says honestly.

He can’t even begin to imagine what it was like for Akechi, for _Goro_. Did he realize the consequences behind his actions from the start? How long did it take him to begin disillusioned?

“I was meant to be the chosen one,” Akechi says weakly, sounding younger than Akira’s ever heard him being.

“Not being _the_ one doesn’t make you any less special.”

“Don’t give me that!” Akechi screams desperately. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

It’s that talk again, Akira realizes. The talk they had in the engine room, right before Goro Akechi died to the world. If Akira had not fucked up, if he had chosen his words wisely, then maybe things wouldn’t end up this way. Maybe Akechi wouldn’t feel like he needs to sacrifice himself for them. Maybe he could make Akechi’s life matter.

Akira got a second chance. Something tells him there won’t be another one.

“Do you really think it’s just about me?” he asks. “Think about it. Maruki chose both of us. We can put an end to this—you and me. But I can’t do this without you. You’re my teammate, my partner. Right now, I’m trusting you with my life.”

“How can you say that?” Akechi laughs bitterly. “When the only reason I’m here, is because you... “

“Because I’m what?”

“Nevermind,” Akechi mutters, averting his gaze.

Akira doesn’t intend to give up now. “Akechi, whatever it is—none of it matters. No one’s judging you. We’re alive, _you’re_ alive.”

Akechi stops at that. “I’m—”

“Let’s get out of here,” Akira whispers. “Together. And back in the real world, you can start over—a new life with me, or without me, in it. I don’t care. I just want you to have real happiness.”

“Why?” Akechi asks. “Why would you want it for me after everything I’ve done?”

_Because it should have been me sacrificing myself._

_Because you should have gotten your revenge._

_Because I want you to get everything you’ve always wanted._

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Akira smiles wryly. “Everything that happens here...it’s not real, remember? So I’m asking once again. What do you want, Goro Akechi? There won’t be any consequences, regardless of what you choose.”

The whole world pauses. All it takes is one push for Akechi to send him flying into the abyss below. Akira entrusted his whole life into Akechi’s clenched fists, and he might end up regretting it, but even if Akechi decides to kill him, he hopes he’ll at least get what he wants.

For a moment, Akechi’s perfectly still, likely thinking about the same thing. Akira can’t bring himself to look away, watching the light shift in Akechi’s eyes as he comes to a decision.

“It’s not real,” Akechi repeats before leaning in to kiss Akira.

It’s not the fall Akira expected.

Akira makes a surprised sound, too shocked to kiss back, and it oddly makes him think about their first kiss, and that’s when it hits him—to Akechi _it is_ their first kiss. And if it is, Akira should make it one Akechi will never forget. Akechi almost pulls away, probably disappointed by his lack of response, so Akira moans, hoping that somehow Akechi will understand just how much he’s wanted.

He feels completely weightless until he stumbles forward, and Akechi catches his waist, pulling him closer, and closer until there’s no space left between them. Akira lets Akechi dictate the tempo, but makes sure to recall all the ways he made Akechi gasp before, all the times Akechi fell apart under his touch. Akechi’s body answers to what his mind can’t recall, giving him all the pretty noises Akira missed so dearly. They kiss until they’re both completely out of breath, and Akira can barely feel his own lips.

Akechi pulls away just for a moment, his eyes wide and focused. “For your information, this is not one of those moments where I realize what I’ve done and run away, while you chase after me calling my name.”

“Okay.”

Akechi glares at him in a challenge. “I’m going to kiss you again. And you’re going to kiss me back.”

“Sounds good,” Akira agrees politely. “Kissing you is nice. I’d hate to ruin it by being an obstacle.”

“After we’re done here, I’m going to leave, and you won’t follow. It’s not going to be dramatic, and I certainly don’t need you to follow me around like a lovesick puppy. I’ll need time to think, and I’ll need _you_ to stay out of it.”

“Deal.”

“One more thing,” Akechi hesitates. “Based on what I’ve heard about the nature of our… relationship, it seems that I’m missing some memories, is that correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Thought so,” Akechi snorts. “Fucking Maruki.”

Akira brushes the hair from Akechi’s eyes, relieved that Akechi doesn’t slap his hand away. “Are you remembering something?”

Akechi shakes his head slowly. Then stops—and shakes his head again. “I don’t think I can remember much for now.”

“That’s okay,” Akira whispers. “Take your time, Akechi.”

“Except for this one little thing.”

Akira forces himself to take a deep breath—it’s a big mistake because he can sense Akechi’s smell now, and it’s enough to make his head spin. Is he violating Maruki’s rules? How much should he even tell Akechi?

“I’m not sure if I can—”

“You,” Akechi runs his fingers down Akira’s chest. “You used to call me by my given name. Yes or no?”

“I did,” Akira answers apprehensively. “When we were alone. You didn’t like it much, but I kept calling you that anyway.”

Whatever it is Akechi wants to tell him it looks like it physically hurts him to say it aloud. “Maybe it would help me remember if you...called me that again. Only when we’re alone, I don’t need your friends making assumptions. They already know too much. Likely, much more than I do.”

“Right.”

Akechi eyes him carefully. “You don’t have your phone with you, do you?”

“No,” Akira admits. “Maruki took all my stuff.”

Akechi makes a face. “Shame. Maybe it would help jog my memory.”

“Until then,” Akira says slowly. “Your memories are safe with me, _Goro_.”

He half-expects Akechi… Goro, to say something more, but then he’s being kissed again, and for a minute none of it matters.

His mind drifts to the memory of their first duel in Mementos, to Akechi’s glove. How badly Goro wanted to win back then. How he promised he’d win against Akira someday. He never got to ask Goro what happens to the glove once you’ve lost the duel. Maybe he should have—the glove suddenly grows heavier in his pocket.

Maruki took all his things. All, except for that one. A something borrowed he never expected himself to need.

Rooftops are a great place to think, Ryuji was right about that part. And so Akira thinks about Goro, blissfully unaware, trapped in oblivion. He thinks about Maruki jerking them around like they’re puppets in his private theatre show.

And then he thinks about his role in all of this, about Goro’s memory stored safely within Akira like he’s just a convenient vessel, his mind collecting the moments of their time together not unlike the camera roll on his phone. Finally, Akira thinks about Joker, distant and inaccessible like his rebellion was nothing but a dream.

Did it finally happen? Did he lose?

Akira closes his eyes, pulling him closer, and then he lets himself be swallowed by Goro’s abyss. Goro claws his way under his shirt, like he never intended to let Akira go.

 _‘My sweet little fool’_ , Goro’s voice from the past whispers into his ear. ‘ _You lost a long time ago.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry about the delay! but we're half-way done with the story, that's a good reason to celebrate!
> 
> next chapter: the wedding vows

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/akihmorn)


End file.
